A Tale of Tim
by anakinlove
Summary: A Tim Drake origin story. Some parts are based on comics but much artistic license taken to make it fit better into my in head canon and head timeline. Plenty of cuddles and tears as is on brand for me. Enjoy!
1. Prologue

Red Robin's breath was coming in short, flurried gasps as he glared up at the Red Hood, frightened but in no way intending to show it. The Red Hood, large gun held easily in his hand and pointed menacingly at Red Robin's head, was probably snarling behind the hood, although you could not tell. "This is the last time you get in my way brat," he snarled, cocking the gun, "Bruce isn't around to save your scrawny ass anymore."

"Come on Jason," Red Robin goaded almost sardonically, "I know you're not gonna shoot me."

"What makes you so sure of that?" Red Hood growled.

"Because I'm here," a voice behind him said smoothly. Red Hood did not even have to turn around to figure out how it was. He snorted.

"You really think you can take me down before I blow his brains out of the back of his head? Not even Bruce was that good and lets face it Dick, you're a shit batman."

"Hurtful," Batman said in a slightly affronted tone, "but not enough to stop me from stopping you!"

"Ohh, just get out of here Dick," Red Robin said, "I'm tried of him bugging me. If he wants to end it, go ahead and let him try. He doesn't have the nerve." Red Hood snarled down at him.

"You're gonna regret saying that," he raged, "I was gonna kill you quick but now…now I think I'll draw it out." Red Robin snorted.

"What are you going to do, hit me with a crowbar?" He could see from the way Red Hood was posturing that he was growing more and more enraged by the fact that neither Red Robin or Batman seemed to be taking the threat of him seriously at all, which was exactly what Red Robin was hoping for. When Red Hood got angry, he made stupid mistakes, like he was doing right now, letting himself get distracted by Batman shifting his weight behind him. Quick as a flash, Red Robin kicked the gun from the Red Hood's hands and rolled away, letting Batman do the work of sweeping the villain's legs out from under him.

Red Hood's gun went off, firing into the roof of the building they were on and he scrambled to his feet, stumbling after Red Robin like an enraged rhinoceros. He kicked out at Batman as the other man tried to intercept him, sending him spiraling back and almost over the side of the building. He caught up with Red Robin as the boy stumbled towards the ledge and spun him around, holding him by the front of his costume balled up in his fist. He held him over the ledge, Red Robin's toes just gripping the edge so that it was only Red Hood that was keeping him from plummeting. With his free hand, the Red Hood ripped off his hood so that Red Robin could see his bright amber hair swirling around his face in the wild wind. The bright lights of the city shown on his face, shimmering with sweat, and gave him an even more manic look.

"I'm going to kill you now replacement," he hissed, "I am going to throw you off the top of this building and you won't catch yourself before you hit the ground."

"Would you stop calling me that," Red Robin snapped all of the sudden, shocking Red Hood so much he almost let Red Robin slip from his grasp.

"What?" he asked.

"Stop calling me replacement. I didn't replace you! I never set out to be Robin, it just happened!"

"Bullshit!" Red Hood snarled, "this doesn't just happen to people, they have to earn it!"

"Do you even know how he got to be Robin in the first place?" Batman asked, slowly gaining his feet. Red Robin could see that he had rolled his ankle, a minor injury but one that would mean he would not be fast enough to catch him if he fell. The boy was on his own and he would just have to keep Red Hood talking until he could figure out a way to wiggle out of his grasp.

"I don't care how he became Robin," Red Hood snapped, "I know enough. I know he swooped in when I was out of the picture and took my place."

"I did not," Red Robin yelped angrily, "I never wanted to take your place, I idolized you! But whatever, it doesn't matter, just drop me, you don't want to know what happened anyway!" It might have been the wrong thing to say but now he was annoyed and damn tired of being kicked around for being Robin. Between Jason and Damian, he was ready for people to stop blaming him for things that had nothing to do with him. Jason showed his teeth but his form was tapered with hesitation and Batman, recognizing his slight curiosity, seized his chance.

"Why don't you let us tell you what happened. That way, you won't just be raging around, angry about things you don't understand."

"This isn't fucking story time Dickie," Jason sneered, but he could not mask the thoughtful look on his face.

"Tell you what," Red Robin offered, "we'll tell you what happened and if you still think I was out to get your job after we're done, I'll throw myself off the building."

"Tim," Batman yelped, "no!" But Red Hood laughed, pulling Red Robin slowly onto firmer ground.

"Alright pup, you've got yourself a deal, mostly because I think it would be a scream to watch you swan dive but also because you're right, I do need a more proper reason to hate you. I'm sure you'll give me one." Batman rushed over once Red Hood released Red Robin, looking him over.

"Are you ok?" he asked. Red Robin nodded. He was fine, curious himself now actually, to see what the Red Hood would do. Right now, he was lighting a cigarette, settling himself down on the ledge of the building and facing the two of them.

"Well," he said expectantly, "is it story time or what?" Batman glared at him, but he could not keep it up. His eyes invariably softened when he looked at the Red Hood, which always made the other man uncomfortable. That was part of the problem, Red Robin thought to himself. Batman just could not imagine Red Hood really hurting anyone. He was still the older man's baby brother and when Batman looked at the Red Hood, he saw a tiny Jason Todd with ice cream all over his face trying to escape being tickled. It made Batman careless and almost jovial around the dangerous criminal. Red Robin knew he would have to be the serious one in this exchange, but that was nothing new.

"Fine," Batman agreed, "but only because I think this story will thaw your frozen heart like the Winter Warlock in Santa Clause is coming to Town." Red Hood rolled his eyes.

"Dick, you are still so weird." Batman smiled just a little bit and settled himself awkwardly down, minding his ankle. Red Robin settled next to him, crossing his legs.

"Where should we start?" Batman asked, turning to Red Robin.

"You start," Red Robin said, "it all really kind of starts with you, or at least, the important stuff does." Batman nodded.

"Alright" he agreed, "I'll start with the day I met you. It had been a little over a year since you died Jay and things were still really…tough. I was still working as a police officer in Bludhaven and Bruce and I weren't really talking. We both blamed each other, and ourselves, for what happened to you. I remember that day in particular because it was the day Crockies cereal released Choco Choco Croc and I had gone out early in the morning before work to grab a box." Red Robin and Red Hood both audibly groaned.

"Anyway," Batman continued forcibly, "the supermarket I usually went to was all out by the time I got there and I had to go to work without breakfast. It was really hot that morning and I was dead tired…"


	2. Chapter 1

I was exhausted. Those days of course, I always was. Trying to have a life during the day and still be able to fight crime at night had never been easy for me, even when I was still working with the Batman but now, juggling the fact that I was my own super hero with also being a cop during the day, work-life balance seemed like a nice sentiment more than any kind of reality I could attain. Nonetheless, I tried my best.

The station was buzzing that morning with officers rushing in and out and back and forth so fast, it was making my head spin. It was 10 a.m. and I was already on my third cup of coffee though, so that probably contributed. During a heat wave, things always got a little crazy and this one was no exception. Everyone from sex workers to murderers got friskier when the weather was warm and it had been for about a month now with not an end in sight.

"Grayson," a booming voice nearby called, "have you finished the paperwork for the Cappelo case?"

"Just finishing now boss," I called, not even bothering to look up from the page that was swimming in front of my eyes.

"I needed it yesterday Grayson," Chief Belzel ordered, "Get it to me by this afternoon."

"Yes sir," I agreed, inwardly groaning. I had not even started the paper work yet. Someone elbowed me and I gave a start, looking over to see Ally grinning at me.

"You look half dead," she said, "don't tell me you had another lady friend over last night." I snorted, rolling my eyes.

"The only lady friends I have over these days are insomnia and too much television." Ally smirked.

"Well hey," she said, "I finished all my reports and I kind of owe you one for shoving me out of the line of fire last week, why don't I get that done for you?"

"Chief'll know," I grumbled, "but it was nice of you to offer."

"He will not!" Ally replied indignantly, "You think I can't copy your terrible handwriting?! Give me that report." She snatched the files from me and the report sheet. "Go crawl into the back seat of my patrol car and take a nap," she insisted, "you can look this over when I'm done, although you shouldn't need to, I was on that case with you."

"You really mean it?" I asked hopefully, because a nap did sound amazing.

"Of course," Ally agreed, "now go." She made a shooing motion with her hands and I needed no more encouragement. I scrambled up and off towards the door, ready to sink down across the probably disgusting seats of her patrol car when I ran headlong into something. I didn't fall but the little someone I practically barreled over did. A binder that had been clutched tightly in his hands went flying to the floor, the papers within it careening off in all directions.

"Ohh, I'm so sorry!" the small boy's voice squeaked as he crawled across the floor, collecting his stuff, "I'm so sorry, it was all my fault!"

"No, it's alright," I insisted, dropping to my knees to help him pick stuff up, "totally my fault, wasn't even looking where I was going." He finished collecting the papers behind him and swung around to put them in the binder, which was between us, and stopped, his face an inch from mine. Then, he toppled back in shock.

"It…It's you!" he squealed.

"It's me," I agreed slowly with consternation, "and you are…?"

"Tim…Tim Drake," he said eagerly, scooting up close to me and holding out his small hand to shake, "Do you remember me?" His eyes were wide and sky blue, so light and bright with eagerness they almost had me falling back myself. He had so much intensity and he was so small. I smirked a little.

"Sorry kid, 'fraid I don't." I took his tiny hand to shake, trying not to giggle.

"That's alright," he said, sounding just slightly crestfallen, "I wasn't sure you would. We really only met once and I was little." I bit back the urge to say 'littler than now?' and released his hand. Then, before I could say anything else, he scooted up really close to me and whispered in my ear, "I know you're Nightwing, I have something really important to tell you." I reeled back so hard, I cracked my head on the desk behind me. Then, there were three small, concerned looking boys crouching in front of me, blue eyes wide and burning a hole in my forehead. What the hell was happening?

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Holding a bag of frozen peas to the back of my head, I sat across the interrogation room table from this crazy little kid as he spun a tale I practically couldn't believe. "You see," he said through a mouth full of the cheeseburger I had bought him, "it was that special flip you do that helped me figure it out. You're like the only one in the world that can do that quadruple flip, plus it's like your signature move. I've studied all your moves and I've noticed that that one encompasses about 33% of your documented flips. Is that because you enjoy doing it? It looks like a lot of fun and, you know, I've been trying to learn it but its way harder than you make it look. I can only do a single flip and I can't even put the spin on it just yet but I figure, maybe if I keep practicing…"

"Hold on," I said, stopping him mid-sentence by putting my hand up, "you figured out who I was because of a flip." The boy nodded eagerly and then paused.

"Ohh, you don't haveta worry 'bout anybody else figuring it out, I kinda did by accident. I wouldn't have if I hadn't seen you do it in person as Dick Grayson." I frowned in consternation.

"How is that possible?" I asked, "You're way too young to have ever seen me with the Flying Graysons."

"You did it the day we first met," Tim said brightly, "I remember it, even though I was really little. My dad took me along to a Wayne function at the manor and you were the entertainment."

"I was? Why would I have been…ohh." And then it hit me and I remembered exactly what he was talking about and why he looked just slightly familiar.

"_Alfred, I cannot believe they canceled so last minute, what are we going to do?!" Alfred faced Bruce with a dry expression on his face. _

"_I am not sure why you are so concerned sir, did you not mention earlier today that you hated these types of functions and would prefer if all the people who came just, and I quote, 'entertained themselves at home?'" _

"_Yea, but that was before Jack Drake and Emma Brella showed up. I need to make a good impression on them for this new business deal and I can't do that without any entertainment!" _

"_Ooo," I said excitedly, stepping out from behind the potted plant where I had been hiding so I could stuff my face with the plate chocolate of covered strawberries I had stolen from the table that Alfred had insisted was meant strictly for guests, "I could be the entertainment." _

"_No," Bruce snapped, "I told you already, you are not allowed to pole dance for people…ever! I should have never let you go undercover as a stripper in the first place!" _

"_There's chocolate all over your best suit," Alfred moaned, "ohh Master Dick, must you dirty everything I slave to keep clean for you! And I told you those strawberries were not for you!" He snatched the plate from my hands but I was too excited and distracted to care. _

"_Not pole dancing!" I insisted, "Although it would be a better show than any you've put on at one of these things, I could do my old Flying Graysons routine. People would love it!" _

"_Dick," Bruce grumbled, "you do not have to be the center of attention at every event we have at this manor and anyway, we're trying to downplay the fact that you've kept those skills up." I made a dismissive gesture towards him. _

"_It'll be fine, everyone knows I used to be an acrobat, I'll make it just good enough to be entertaining but leave out all the super cool stuff I do as robin. Please, please, please, please, please, please, PLEEEEEEEEASE!" _

"_Alright, alright fine, but only because I have no other options!" _

"You were the little kid that came up afterwards, Jack Drake's son," I said slowly, "You wanted my autograph and to take a picture with me." The boy nodded eagerly.

"Yea, I was so excited to meet you! I thought it was just the coolest thing ever, you doing those flips, so I started looking you up online and watching all your old Flying Graysons videos. You guys were the best ever! I didn't put it all together, who you were and all, until I saw you in action as Robin. It was just a couple months later when my dad and I were out shopping that the Riddler attacked and I saw Robin do the flip that I figured it all out! Robin showed up just a little while after Bruce took you in and then, he disappeared when you went to college.

After that, Robin showed up again but I could totally tell he wasn't you, he was way smaller and he couldn't flip like you could but then Bruce adopted Jason Todd and it all made sense again! Around that same time, I started seeing videos of Nightwing and I knew it must be you back at it with a different costume! But then…then there was that report that Jason died in a skiing accident and I stopped seeing Robin. I hoped maybe he would show up again as a different superhero like you did but…is Jason really gone?" I felt a lump rising in my throat and my eyes started to get a little misty. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Tim looked absolutely miserable, his eyes downcast.

"I guess I kind of already knew," he said softly, "I mean, I hoped maybe he was ok but…with Bruce acting so different…" I frowned.

"What do you mean?" I asked, gulping down my tears and wiping my sleeve roughly across my eyes, "What do you mean different?"

"That's…that's part of why I'm here," Tim said, "Bruce Wayne seems about the same but Batman is totally different. He's much darker, more reckless and I'm…I'm really worried about him. A lot of the recent videos I've seen of him…he's gotten hurt real bad. I think he really misses Jason, so much that he's stopped being careful like he used to be." I bit my bottom lip, feeling a little guilty. I had been back to Gotham only a couple of times since Jason passed and then, only for a little while. Bruce and I weren't really on the best of terms and, besides swinging by to see Alfred when I knew he was out and occasionally soliciting help on a really tricky case, I mostly avoided him. I had not really noticed at all that he had changed and, while it didn't surprise me, it did worry me. If what Tim said was true, the Dark Knight was headed down a path that lead to terrible injuries or even death.

"Why come to me though?" I asked. Tim straightened up so he could look me in the eye, his small face growing deadly serious.

"Because…Batman needs a Robin and I think you need to go back and be that for him." The statement was so absurd, I almost started laughing.

"No way kid," I snorted, "I can't be Robin."

"But you have to!" Tim cried, gathering his feet up under him so he could crouch on the chair and lean towards me on the table, "You just have to! Besides the fact that if he keeps going like this, he's going to end up dead there's…there's something coming." I frowned.

"What do you mean, there's something coming?" Tim shrank back a little, looking self-conscious with his face slightly red.

"I don't…I don't know exactly and it's kinda complicated but I've been hearing things and I think…I think something bad is coming to Gotham, something that's going to try and hurt the Batman, and maybe you too, and I don't think he can handle it by himself. He needs you!" But I had zoned out, my mind racing. This little kid knew our identities. Almost no one knew our identities but this little kid did and I wasn't sure just what to do about it. It didn't seem like he was going to tell anyone but I couldn't be sure. He was just a kid after all, he could let something slip by accident, at school or even to his parents. I considered him as he was speaking. He was so little but had somehow figured out something people had been trying to for like 15 years, who exactly Batman was. I wondered if he understood just how crazy it was that he was the one to put it all together.

As much as I hated to admit it, this wasn't a problem I could deal with on my own, I needed to bring Bruce in on it. "Do you want to go see Batman?" I asked suddenly, realizing a moment later that I had just rudely cut him off.

"Yea," Tim agreed eagerly, "can we?! Does that mean you're gonna be Robin again?"

"Maybe," I said vaguely, waving my hand, "look, where are your parents?"

"My dad is on a trip," he replied simply.

"Did your mom bring you here?" I asked. Tim shook his head slowly, eyes downcast.

"I took a bus," he said softly, "my mom is dead." I felt a stab of guilt. Dead moms were something I was familiar with.

"S…sorry, wait, you took a bus all by yourself from Gotham to Blϋdhaven?" Tim nodded.

"I just had to come and see you, it was real important." I frowned at him, wrinkling my nose.

"How old are you?"

"Eleven," he replied, "I know, I'm small for my age. That doesn't matter though, can we go and see Batman?" I nodded.

"We'd better leave now. Have you ever ridden a motorcycle?" Tim shook his head, his face alight with excitement.

"Do I get to ride the wing cycle?" he squeaked. I couldn't help but grin at him. He was just so tiny and precious.

"No, just the Dick cycle. I'd take you in a car but I don't actually own one."

"That's alright," Tim said excitedly, "it's just so cool to be with you, you're my hero!" I pursed my lips, fighting back another grin. Batman was gonna hate this kid.


	3. Chapter 2

"Why does it not surprise me that this is your fault!? I told you your desperate need to always be the center of attention was going to get us all killed someday and wasn't I right! If this small…child can figure it out just from your stupid flip, other people can too!"

"Now hold on, this is not all my fault! I was just a little kid when I started out, you never told me anything about needing to change my routine to be Robin. You were the adult, you should have been the first one to warn me not to pull out all the Flying Grayson moves. How was I supposed to know, oh World's Greatest Detective, especially since you never miss an opportunity to remind me of how much I've dropped the ball in that department!"

"Well, you're the adult now and you were eighteen when you insisted on performing at that party! All I have ever asked from you is an ounce of foresight and at least an effort to stay out of the public eye. You never listened though, always thinking you knew better, always so sure the world would benefit from the last of the Flying Grayson's constantly being in the spotlight."

"I grew up in the circus, I was trained to be in the spotlight! Maybe if you had bothered to raise me instead of just letting me figure out how to be an adult all my own, I would have that foresight you keep going on and on about. How can you expect more from a boy brought up by a spoiled man child?!"

"I did the very best I could with you! My parents died when I was eight if you'll recall! How was I supposed to know what to do with a kid?"

"You fed me marshmallows and bats from the cave for the first week after I showed up here, most people with half a brain cell would be able to do better than that!"

Watching other people fight is never a particularly pleasant experience but when it's Batman and Nightwing screaming at each other at the top of their lungs, even if they aren't in costume, it tends to render a person small and silent, especially me. I was always the small and silent type.

We had managed to make it through the door of Wayne Manor, I chatting excitedly with Dick and asking him every question I could think of, before we were intercepted by Bruce and the shouting match had begun pretty much instantly. It had been twenty minutes already and neither was showing any signs of slowing down. I wasn't sure how my first meeting with Batman was going to go but I somehow expected it to be better than this. I knew he probably wouldn't be too happy that I had figured everything out but I had hoped he would get over it quickly so we could have conversation about why I was actually there in the first place. It did not look like that was likely to happen though, and I had had such high hopes on the bus ride over to Blϋdhaven.

I was used to riding the bus alone, to all the weird looks I got for how small I was, so the two hours in the company of strange, shifty looking people did not particularly trouble me. I might have been small but I could defend myself well enough, at least from one or two leering bus people. I ignored all of them though, instead focusing on the task at hand, organizing all the information in my binder into a coherent argument so that Batman would take it all seriously and look into it. I was a little worried though because honestly, there wasn't much there, just whispers and a dark sense of foreboding I couldn't shake.

It started when my dad lost his job. Much of the wealth I had grown up with had been in the family forever but my dad made his contribution working on top secret stuff for different companies. I did not know exactly what he did but, the couple times he had tried to explain his job to me, he had described himself as being a little like a contractor. What I did not know was that contractors could get fired same as regular people. He came home one day, raging and ranting, so much so that I actually considered staying out of his way the rest of the evening. Instead though, I started heating up his dinner as he dropped heavily into a chair at the kitchen table, his head in his hands. He looked up, noticing me as I came over with his plate, and sighed deeply. "Thanks Tim, sorry about this, Dad's just had a hard day."

"What's up?" I asked as he started on his food. The cook had made the meal hours ago and I had already eaten but mashed potatoes reheated well enough and Dad didn't look like he would want to wait for her to make anything else. I scooted into a chair across the table from him.

"Well," he said in a huffy, heavy voice, "I can't really talk about it but I just got let go from my biggest project with this company. It's all really hush hush and I signed a lot of agreements saying I wasn't going to talk about it but I guess what it really means is that…we might have to tighten our belts around here a little bit. Family money is…well we don't have as much of it left as we used to and I was expecting a big bonus when this project took off." He looked up at me, taking in the worry on my face, and smiled. "Don't worry though champ, we'll be fine, we always are." He finished off his potatoes and got wearily to his feet. "Anyway, I have some papers to shred. Have a good night sport."

I opened my mouth in protest, about to ask if maybe we could watch a movie together or something, but he was already out the door and I lost my nerve. He looked tired anyway. It was then that I noticed a paper that had dropped out of his briefcase when he'd stopped for dinner. I scrambled to the floor, excited to get the chance to be useful, and was about to call out to dad when I saw what was on it. It was a picture of the Batman. Actually, it was more like a schematic.

It was a drawing of him highlighting every hidden pocket where a weapon was stored. On the back was a list of those weapons and more information about them, along with details on how to counter them. Why would my dad have something like this? I felt a shiver run down my spine and, after a moment's thought, darted up to my room. I spent all night going over the paper from every angle, carefully copying the information and trying to make sense of what I was looking at and why my dad would have it. It read almost like a tactical guide on how to take down the Batman with references to other documents I didn't have. Particularly chilling, it was numbered 17 of 50. That meant there were 49 other pages like this out there, maybe also about Batman. What could a company my dad was working for have wanted with information like this?

After making copies of the page, I did eventually hand it over to my dad so he wouldn't get suspicious, pretending like I hadn't really looked at it and later, when he left again, I checked his study for more papers like it. I was too late though. There were a few random shreds that looked like they might have come from the same document, but the rest were already on their way to the recycling plant. I was a little shaken and very suspicious, but I might have put the whole thing out of my mind in a week or two had it not been for the other things.

First, there was Jeremy Horner. I always watched the news or read about it from as many reputable sources as I could but I also favored some that were…less so. One internet reporter in particular gave really interesting exposes on weird Gotham phenomena, things like where Killer Croc was holed up and why the Gotham Police had allowed him to stay or what billionaire Bruce Wayne was up to with his latest super car and why that related to the mysterious Court of Owls. Some of it was garbage…ok, a lot of it was garbage but some of it was actually pretty compelling and one of my favorite things about his site was that he had an archive of pretty much any clip of Batman fighting that you could find online. I, of course, downloaded them all onto a personal computer so that I could do things like enhancements of certain frames and analysis of background noise but I checked the site at least once a day to see if any new clips had been uploaded and usually paused to watch Jeremy's latest rant about why the Joker was involved with the Italian government or how to make a special cup to protect yourself from the toxins in the Gotham water supply, introduced by scientists from Area 51 as part of a complex alien related experiment. I loved arts and crafts.

That day in particular, when I clicked on Jeremy's newest video, I was met with the face of the reporter, agitated and sweaty, whispering into the camera in a place I didn't recognize. "Alright Gotham conspirators," Jeremy whispered, "have I got a scoop for you. It goes all the way to the top and it involves…the Batman. I can't tell you where I am or what I'm doing until I'm home but rest assured, this is one the world is gonna want to hear about. Stay tuned for my next report, it'll be on tomorrow! It might even be on the news!" I did not think too much of the video, Jeremy was always a little eccentric, until I saw the news the next day. Jeremy was indeed there…in a body bag. I reeled back in shock, almost dropping my bowl of Cheetos, and turned up the volume.

Apparently, he had been murdered by a former girlfriend who had, in fit of psychosis, shot him and committed suicide shortly after. I could not believe it, especially once I started digging. Sarah Blaire had no previous diagnosis of any psychotic disorder and there was no history of any in her family. Neither she nor Jeremy owned or had ever owned a firearm and there was no mention of the gun she had used having been reported stolen. Jeremy had never once mentioned Sarah as a past or current girlfriend. In fact, he was pretty open about his love life, or lack thereof. He even had whole videos about how he thought his lack of romantic prospects had something to do with excess radio waves from the Gotham Knights Stadium broadcasts.

The really spooky thing though, was the fact that his website was gone. Not just deleted, wiped from the face of the internet with no record of it on any other websites. That wasn't something that just happened spontaneous when you died. It was deliberate and methodical and I was sure it had something to do with Jeremy's last cryptic video. Both of these events together had piqued my interest but the thing that really got me on a bus to Blϋdhaven was the final piece of evidence, the relocation of _The_ _Red Lady. _

_The Red Lady_ had been in Gotham for as long as anyone could remember, or at least as long as the Art Museum had been. It was one of the city's claims to fame, besides crime and the Batman of course. It was a statue of a hamster, which sounds mundane except that it was constructed entirely of jewels, mostly rubies to give it it's name, and the largest pure white diamond in the world. It was absolutely priceless, unbelievable to behold, and had, as many costly things do, a really curious past.

It was owned by a man named Geliad Crinkle, a member of one of the founding families of Gotham and head of the oldest criminal organization in the city, or so people said. There was no hard evidence, or at least, not enough to get him convicted of anything, but the Crinkle family had always had their fingers in Gotham's sordid underbelly and Geliad was likely no exception. The other thing the Crinkle's were known for was allowing _The Red Lady_ to reside in the museum, not due to any altruism on their part it was said, but because they liked people to know just how wealthy they were. They weren't Wayne wealthy, and everybody knew it, but _The Red Lady_ stood as a testament to old money in the family and that was enough for them.

The curious thing about _The Red Lady_ though, and this was something that was not well known to anyone outside of the conspiracy theorist circles I occasionally visited, was that it was never in the city when something really bad was going to happen. Over the years, Gotham had had many a catastrophe, everything from terrible fires to particularly nasty crime sprees, but it always seemed like, a few weeks or even months before something hit, _The Red Lady_ would be loaned out to another museum or be taken somewhere to be cleaned.

I remembered distinctly when I was in third grade, _The Red Lady_ was taken out of the museum for a special event Mr. Crinkle was throwing and, that very night, the museum was burgled with many of the most priceless artifacts being stolen. Some people speculated that the statue was magic or the Crinkles had a soothsayer that told them when something was going to happen that might effect it. Others said it was far more likely due to the fact that the Crinkles were rich and well connected and could predict when trouble was brewing.

Whatever the actual reason, the announcement of _The Red Lady_ being loaned to the Metropolis Museum of Art made my blood run cold and, even though the three troubling clues I had come across did not obviously connect, they rolled around in my brain together, irking me until I had to do something about it. I figured if anyone could calm my fears and tell me it was all just nothing, it would be the World's Greatest Detective. Batman's reaction to this whole turn of events, however, was making me think it might have been better if I had gone about all this a different way. Life doesn't come with built in do-overs though, so I had no option except trying to salvage the meeting as best I could. I didn't really get time though.

"I don't even know why I came here, I should have known you'd be too dense to listen to me!"

"Yes, go, run off just like you always do when I really need you, when he really needed you!"

Dick give a load, angry groan, threw his hands in the air and turned around, stalking away. "Wait," I yelped, "stop, you can't go, he still needs you." I immediately knew it was a mistake to speak up when both their faces turned to me. I shrank back under Bruce Wayne's withering gaze and clutched my binder a little tighter.

"And you," he snarled, "What do you want, money? Is that why you came here?"

"N…no," I squeaked, "I don't want anything. I just…I need to tell you about…" I opened my binder, frantically flipping through the pages but before I could reach what I was looking for, Bruce slapped it out of my hands and hauled me up to eyelevel by the front of my shirt. Then, he was growling in my face like an angry pit bull and beneath his fury, I cowered.

"Bruce," Dick snapped, swinging back around to come to my rescue, "leave him alone, he doesn't want anything from you." He yanked me out of Bruce's grasp, holding me like a puppy with an arm around my middle, pressing me to his chest.

Bruce glared at both of us for a moment and then growled in a low, totally terrifying voice, "Get him out of here. If I ever see him again…" He didn't get the chance to finish his threat though, because I was suddenly being whisked away. Glancing back, I saw Bruce stalking off and, still desperate to get him to listen to me, I wiggled out of Dick's grasp and dropped to the floor, rushing back to him.

"Please Mr. Wayne!" I cried, grabbing his hand, "please listen!" He ripped his arm away from me so roughly, I was knocked back onto the floor. I looked up at him miserably but he didn't even pay me a second glance. He stomped up a nearby staircase and he was gone. Dick was at my side a moment later.

"Are you ok?" he asked gently, putting a hand on my shoulder. I nodded, feeling so disappointed, I couldn't speak. Dick picked up my binder, collecting the pages that had fluttered away, and put it back into my hands. "Come on kid," he said softly, "I'll take you home." One of the nice things about riding a motorcycle is that there aren't any chances for small talk. Each of us could be alone with our thoughts without having to engage in compulsory stilted conversation. The trip from Wayne Manor to my apartment was a short one and before I knew it, I was dismounting Dick's motorcycle and headed towards my front door, my head hanging.

"Wait," Dick said suddenly, crouching down so he could look me in the eye, "I…I'm sorry things didn't work out like you kinda hoped they would." I shrugged.

"It's alright," I mumbled, "At least we tried." He looked at me awkwardly, his lips pursed, and I knew what he was thinking. "Don't worry," I assured him, "I'm not gonna tell anyone who you guys are. I've known for years and I haven't told anyone yet. Your secret is safe with me." Dick nodded, smiling at me.

"Thanks kid," he said, getting up and ruffling my hair as he headed back towards his motorcycle. "Have a good night." I waved at him as he sped away, pausing to watch until he was gone. Clutching my binder tightly to my chest, I unlocked the door to my apartment and headed upstairs. I knew now that there was no way Nightwing could come back and help Batman. The two of them couldn't even be in the same room for more than a couple minutes without yelling at each other. I also realized that Bruce was never going to listen to me.

By the time I had reached my bedroom, I knew what I had to do. The evidence I had was tenuous at best. I needed more proof, enough proof that Batman and Nightwing couldn't ignore me and since they weren't going to help me, I was going to have to investigate on my own.


	4. Chapter 3

The first thing I had to do was get a costume. I mean, I didn't strictly need one but I figured, if Jeremy got murdered for digging into all this, I didn't want to share his fate so it would be best if I at least tried to be anonymous. Dad had been right about money being tight though, so I couldn't exactly go all out and get something really good. In fact, I only had about ten bucks. That got me a pair of Robin footie pajamas that were a size too big from the clearance section at Walmart and a green plastic mask from Party City. I didn't look…great but at least no one would know who I was and anyway, dressing sort of like Robin lent a sense of legitimacy to the whole endeavor. I added to the costume my best pair of hiking boots, a backpack, a belt with a special compartment for mace, a black shower cap and some nitrile gloves. I wasn't going to take any chances of leaving behind DNA or fingerprint evidence.

Then there was the decision of what to investigate. I basically had three avenues of research I wanted to pursue, three clues that somehow fit together but each needed to be expounded upon separately. Going after the motives behind the movement of _The Red Lady_ seemed like the most difficult line of inquiry, mostly since the answers I needed were with Geliad Crinkle and I didn't think he was going to be interested in talking to me. Digging into my Dad's secrets was the obvious choice since I had proximity on my side but, after spending hours snooping around his office, I could turn up nothing that related to any of his recent projects. He was just too careful not to leave any physical evidence lying around. What I really needed was to get my hands on his laptop but he took that everywhere with him. I would need to do some careful planning before I could start really investigating that side of things.

That left Jeremy's untimely demise so, the evening after my unfortunate encounter with Bruce Wayne, I donned my costume, threw a pair of jeans and a t-shirt over it and took a bus down to Brinbleton, the tiny, crime riddled neighborhood where Jeremy had been living. I doubted whoever had gone to the trouble of killing Jeremy had left any damning evidence behind and anything they had managed to miss had probably been picked up by the police but I hoped there could be at least something, one little scrap of a clue left over for me. The investigation was technically ongoing, although it would be closed by the end of the week in all likelihood, so the crime scene was still secure, or at least, still taped up.

Hopping off the bus a few blocks from my actual stop to throw off anyone who might have been tailing me, I ducked into an alleyway to change into clearance rack Robin, which was what I had been calling myself in my head. I then proceeded to make the rest of my journey on foot, sticking to the shadows and staying out of sight as much as possible. It wasn't hard. People went out of their way not to notice things in places like this. Of course, as a kid growing up fairly wealthy, I had never actually been to a place like this. It smelled rank, a horrible mix of garbage and human refuse, and everyone, even the children, were vaguely menacing, at least to me. Batman probably spent a lot of his time in the seedier Gotham neighborhoods so, as I walked along, I contemplated how he dealt with it. Well, he was Batman, nobody messed with Batman.

I finally made it to the complex where Jeremy had lived at around 12:30 a.m. and quietly made my way over to his apartment. I knew exactly which one it was after watching the news and I wondered vaguely how the landlords were planning on attracting new tenants to the site of a brutal murder suicide. I guess if it was competitively priced…

The night was overly warm and I was starting to sweat in my weird costume. I was also starting to chafe so I hoped I could get this all done quickly. There were quite a few people around for it being as late as it was but the moon was new and most of the street lights were dead, leaving plenty of shadows for me to slip through unnoticed. I was no Batman but I was a tiny, skinny boy, kind of the next best thing. I bypassed a drunken woman leaning heavily against the wall by the door of the building and scurried up the stairs and down the hall, listening intently for the sounds of doors opening or footsteps. I was lucky, only one person came out of their room but I was able to duck into the stairwell just in time to keep from being spotted.

It was pretty easy to figure out which apartment was the right one since it was still covered in crime scene tape. The tape seemed intact too, so that probably meant no one had come in and tried to steal stuff yet, which was good for me. I sent frenzied glances over my shoulder as I discreetly cut the tape and opened the door, shutting it quickly behind me. The smell of dried blood was overwhelming and for a moment, it had me reeling back in shock. I held my nose, steeled myself, and moved silently through the dark apartment, not even daring to turn on the lights for fear of alerting someone on the street to the fact that I was here.

It took me almost two hours to make my way meticulously through the tiny studio apartment. I took swabs of all the door handles, strewn about cups and any place else I could think that a person might have left DNA. I also dusted for fingerprints and searched with a flashlight on my hands and knees for fiber evidence. I took samples from the blood stains and rifled through all the closets and drawers. Of course, most of the good stuff like laptops and other computer equipment had already been taken, but I was right about there being something the killer and the police had missed. I found it discarded beside the bed.

In a haphazard pile were the clothes Jeremy had been wearing in his last video. I only recognized them because he'd had on his signature self-splicing RNA graphic T shirt that I was super jealous of and it was on top of the pile. I could have yipped in glee if I hadn't felt the need to be totally silent. Eagerly, I loaded the clothing into a trash bag and put it in my backpack. Further digging around didn't uncover anything else I thought would be useful so I quietly left the apartment, carefully repairing the crime scene tape with double sided tape that I hoped would not be too obvious and left. I didn't want to catch the bus in this neighborhood so I started my trek through the same alleys and side streets I had taken before.

It was about two in the morning at this point and I was thoroughly exhausted but elated that I had managed to gather some bona fide evidence. I wasn't sure that it would lead anywhere but at least it was something, at least I was doing something. I was distracted, mulling over the analysis that needed to be done with my head down, so I didn't notice until I was surrounded that there was trouble brewing. "What have we got here?" a deep voice simpered, curling around me like smoke. I looked up from the ground and saw a dark figure in front of me, face only partially lit by the dim street lights. There were two men to this one's sides and one behind me, none of them totally visible and all very menacing. I gulped.

"H…hello," I said softly, "I'm just trying to get home…I don't want any trouble."

"But you dressed like Robin," the man directly in front of me teased in an oozing voice, "you just screaming for trouble, ain't you little bird."

"Not a very good Robin," another man said, "reckon he got kicked out of the nest?"

"I'd say so," the man directly behind me hissed in my ear, his breath reeking of cigarettes and cheap tequila, "let's see if he's took anything with him."

"I don't have any money," I said in a shaky voice, "please, I'm just trying to get home." In response, one of the men snatched my backpack. I should have just let him take it but there was evidence in there I desperately needed and, stupidly, I grabbed the handle and tried to pull it back. I learned just how much of a mistake that course of action was a moment later when the man behind me hit me hard in the back with a stick. I reeled and dropped to my knees, my vision swimming. The backpack was wrenched from my grasp and I thought that was the end of it until I got hit again, this time in the stomach. I retched and fell flat on my face, my hand reflexively grabbing at the concrete beneath me. The blows came raining down on my back. There was no reason for them to beat me up, I was obviously no threat, but I had pissed them off and now, I was going to pay.

Out of the blue though, just as I was curling into ball to try and protect what internal organs I could, a shadow covered the small amount of light that had been present. The blows stopped as the men turned frantically, looking for what had caused the blackout. Then, one of them was gone. A single shriek and compete silence. The other three drew closer together, one of them tripping over me. He hit the ground by my side and he too was dragged into the darkness, so quickly he had time for only one quick squeal. Two men were left.

One of them snatched me off the ground, his hand around my throat and called out to the darkness, "G…go away, go away or I'll kill 'em." The second man opened his mouth to shout a threat as well but all of the sudden, he was gone too, leaving only the one who was holding me. I couldn't really see him in the almost total darkness but I could feel his breath coming in short, frenzied gasps and his hand around my throat tightened. I writhed in his grasp, dark spots appearing in my vision, and just as I felt like I was going to pass out, the pressure was released and I dropped roughly back down to the ground. I was only there for a minute though.

Before I had even caught my breath, a hand fastened around the back of my costume and I was whisked up into the air and onto a rooftop before being dropped heavily down onto it. I stared up at the night sky in terror for there, looming above me in all his dark glory, was the Batman. I started having a panic attack, my breathing catching in my throat as my chest felt like it was tightening and my eyes bulged. Batman, obviously noticing my distress, surprised me by backing away from me slightly and settling down on the rooftop. The sight of the Batman, sitting with his legs crossed like a preschooler at circle time calmed me down more than I would have thought was possible and slowly, my breathing returned to normal.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, me fingering the bruises around my neck and wondering how I was going to hide them at school tomorrow, when he suddenly spoke up. "What do you think you were doing Drake, do you have any idea how dangerous this part of town is?" His voice was oddly…not gravelly. It was his Bruce Wayne voice, and a gentler version than I had heard before even. I guess he figured I was freaked out enough and didn't want to give me another panic attack. That was nice of him.

"You know who I am," I asked wonderingly.

"Of course I know who you are," Batman snapped, "I'm Batman." I nibbled my bottom lip, feeling stupid.

"Thanks for…thanks for saving me. If you hadn't happened by, I would have been a goner." Batman snorted.

"I didn't just "happen by". I've been investigating you."

"Me," I asked, "why me?"

"I want to know what you want, why Dick dragged you to my house yesterday, how much of a problem you are going to be, although if I'd just left you to those men, you wouldn't have been a problem at all." I shrank back a little as his voice started getting gravelly and Batman-y.

"I…I'm sorry," I said, "I d…don't want to cause you problems, I really don't, I just…I mean someone has to…solve this." Batman frowned at me.

"You're talking about whatever you had in that stupid binder when you came to see me." I nodded swiftly, although I resented it being called stupid, and wrapped my arms around my legs. Batman clinched and unclinched his fists, giving a snort like a moody stallion. "You need to let this go." The intensity with which he was glaring at me should have been enough to convince me to do exactly that but there was something in me that couldn't. It was too important. I shook my head slowly. Batman sighed, got up and offered me a hand. I took it, getting unsteadily to my feet.

"If you would just look at the evidence I have…" I started in a last-ditch effort to get him on my side, but he silenced me with a raised gauntlet and a low growl.

"This is all in your head," he grumbled, "but since you will not give it up until you convince yourself of that, I will offer you this one…ONE thing and it does not mean that I endorse your investigation in any way." I waited expectantly, wondering what it exactly it was that he was going to offer me. "You may…come to the Batcave and use my facilities and my computers for your investigation if you agree to keep mine and Dick's identities a secret and stay off the streets. No more field work." I could have leapt up in glee if he hadn't been glaring at me and my ribs hadn't hurt so much.

"Really?" I asked excitedly.

"Yes," Batman agreed with obvious reluctance, but do not think this means I am going to help you. This is your affair, I want no part in it." I nodded vigorously.

"Of course, of course! I won't bother you at all, I'll be very quiet and I won't get in your way, I swear!"

"I am going to regret this," Batman grumbled under his breath as he started towards the edge of the roof. When he noticed I wasn't following him, he turned around in annoyance. "I have better things to do than wait for you boy, lets get going."

"Are we going to the batcave now?" I squealed excitedly, gamboling to him like a colt.

"No," the Dark Knight grunted, stopping me in my tracks, "I'm taking you home." My head dropped a little in disappointment and Batman added softly, "You can come tomorrow." I nodded eagerly and followed him down the fire escape, my head spinning. I couldn't wait for the next day!


	5. Chapter 4

**Hey guys, I hope everyone is enjoying this story, it sure has been good to be back in the saddle after so many years! Thanks so much for all the reviews, I always love to know what ya'll think. Just because I think it might be helpful for some people, I now have featured on my profile page my head canon timeline for Batman stuff with the ages I have decided everyone was when things happened (i.e. Bruce was 18 when he got Dickie and Dick was 8, Dick was 18 when he left to become Nightwing and Bruce was 28, ect.). I made it because it helps me keep things straight in my head but I thought others might enjoy it too so check that out if you're interested! Enjoy!**

I could hardly wait for school to be over. I could barely sit still and was told several times by annoyed teachers to stand up in the back of class for a while if I really couldn't manage not to fidget. When the end of the day finally came, I shot out of school like a bullet, took two buses across town to as close to Wayne Manor as a bus would take me, and biked the rest of the way.

The last time I had been here, which had also been the first time, it had been well after dark and I hadn't gotten a good look at the place. Now, though, I paused a moment at the end of the long, uphill driveway to take it in. The manor was so…imposing, almost like a medieval castle. It was the perfect place for the Batman to live; it had exactly the right ambiance. It was grand and rectangular, a series of three large wings set at right angles from one another and all made out of an elegant, dark gray stone with slate colored roofs. The tallest wing faced the courtyard where the driveway came up and circled around a magnificent, marble dolphin fountain. There was a large set of doors in the center of the wing that I knew opened up to a dramatic staircase that led up to the suite of rooms for fancy parties and such. The other two wings came out from the sides of the first like the legs of the sphinx, housing the living spaces.

The whole structure had more windows than I had time to count and sat within the confines of what I knew were quite extensive grounds. The bus had dropped me at the end of the very long _Wayne Lane, _the one way street that led back two miles through undeveloped countryside to where the manor lurked atop a hill, far from the public eye. I was exhausted and sweaty by the time I made it up the driveway, having to dismount and walk a couple times when it got really steep. The grounds close to the manor were manicured and beautiful, so I felt weird just dumping my bike somewhere. Luckily, I was saved from having to wander around looking for a bike rack by an elderly British man limping up to me. "Master Timothy, I presume," he drawled, taking me by surprise, as I hadn't noticed him right away. I abruptly swung around to face him, startled and bewildered.

"Yea," I said, "how did you know, who are you?" The man gave me a thin smile.

"I am Alfred Pennyworth sir, butler here at Wayne Manor. The master said you would probably be by today around this time. I am afraid he is out at the moment, but I have been instructed to help you with your business." I bit my lip, wondering if this was some kind of test.

"I'm…not sure you can help me," I said slowly, "my business is not exactly related to his…business, more his…nighttime activities." I realized a moment after that statement left my mouth how prostitute-y it sounded, and I was about to frantically back-peddle when the butler gracefully intervened.

"Yes sir, I am aware of why you are here. Do not fret, I am privy to _all _the master's secrets. This way please. You may leave your bicycle there, no one will trouble it." I nodded and followed him, which wasn't hard since he was moving so slowly with that limp. I could see now that I could get a better look at him that he was wearing one of those boots people with hurt feet wear and leaning heavily on a cane.

"Are you ok?" I asked as I followed him through the front door.

"Yes sir," the butler replied, "I am afraid I took a nasty fall off a rather tall ladder the other day but I am on the mend and should be back to my old self quite soon." I hissed in commiseration.

"What were you doing up on a ladder?" I asked. It was a nosy question but back then I never knew how to mind my own business and had no subtly. Since then, I have at least learned how to be more discreet about my nosiness.

"I was dusting the dinosaur," the butler replied, a slight twinkle in his eye when he said it. I wondered what he meant by that but before I could ask, I realized we were in a small room that looked like a broom closet, and I wasn't quite sure how we had gotten here. That wasn't all that surprising though, I had this annoying habit where, when I started thinking really hard or asking a lot of questions, I didn't pay attention to where I was going and ended up places I hadn't expected. I gave Mr. Pennyworth a quizzical look as he closed the door to the closet, moved the lone broom lying against the back wall aside, and pressed a few buttons on the panel it had been covering. There was a click, a whoosh and suddenly, we were going down.

I stared at him open-mouthed as the closet reached the floor with a hiss and the door opened once again. Mr. Pennyworth gave me a tiny smile. "Master Bruce utilizes other means to access his work place but this one is mine specifically." I stepped out of the closet and was momentarily unable to speak. We were in some kind of cave, but much larger than any cave I had ever even dreamed of and it was absolutely bursting with stuff. There was an area that had all the vehicles I had ever seen Batman use and some that I hadn't, another area that was obviously used for martial arts and other types of training, a place covered in the most fantastic looking odds and ends, including a gigantic penny and a bright green Tyrannosaurus Rex and finally, to my greatest delight, an area full of scientific equipment and computers.

There was everything anyone could think of to do analysis for solving crimes, included a liquid chromatography mass spectrometer, an instrument for Illumina DNA sequencing, several stunning microscopes and many other things that would take simply too long to list off. I thought I might be in heaven. I looked back at Mr. Pennyworth, a huge grin on my face. "This is the coolest," I squealed, "Thanks for bringing me down here Mr. Pennyworth!" Then, I paused. "Are you sure its ok for me to be down here without Mr. Wayne…Batman being here?"

"I was told you could be allowed to use the computers while he was away but refrain from touching any of the other instruments or equipment. I will be down here as well, if you have questions. Also, you may just call me Alfred, Master Timothy." I nodded eagerly and rushed over to the computers, barely able to keep from bouncing up and down. I had forgotten all the stuff I had collected the previous evening from Jeremy's apartment but that was alright, I would need help to analyze what I had found anyway. I wasn't sure if Batman would even be willing to help me but I was hopeful. Maybe, if I dug up some good stuff with the computers first, he would be more inclined to assist me with the other stuff.

Alfred hobbled over to my side and sat down with a grunt in a chair beside me. "Master Bruce has created an account for you on the computer," he murmured as he typed, "I will show you how to access it."

"Thank you," I said, "sorry you have to be down here babysitting me. I hate to keep you. I could come back some other time when Batman is working down here so I don't inconvenience anyone."

"That is not necessary," Alfred replied, "I would be down here regardless of your presence. I have a great deal of cleaning to do."

"Ok," I said shyly, "thank you." He gave me another thin smile and got up slowly, hobbling off. I scrambled up into the chair, my feet embarrassingly far off the ground, and scooted up close to the screen. For a while, I just poked around, feeling out all the different programs Batman had and familiarizing myself with the operating system. I loved computers and I could tell that this one was more impressive than any I had ever worked with. The actual "computer" part was tucked away somewhere, a series of multiple enormous cores I discovered just from my cursory investigations. This was particularly cool because it meant he probably had some insane computing power and I was itching to make use of it.

After flicking through my binder in an effort to identify a good place to start, I finally settled on trying to figure out some of my dad's recent travel destinations in the hopes that this would give me some clues about what he had been up to. My dad traveled all the time for work but often didn't mention where exactly he was going. In fact, sometimes he didn't even tell me ahead of time he was going anywhere at all, I would just wake up in the morning to a note saying he would be gone for a month. All of that meant though, that I had little to go on when it came to my search. My best estimates for dates of travel were probably not even that precise since not seeing Dad for days was pretty normal for me and he could easily leave and come back on a short trip without my ever even knowing he was gone. That was where the computing power of the bat cave systems would come in handy.

Batman had a series of programs tabbed for frequent use and one of them in particular caught my eye. It was program that could search all relevant databases for travel records for a particular individual within a certain time frame. I adapted it slightly to narrow the range, since there were days I knew for a fact my dad had been in town and days I knew he had been away, and set it to run. I had it searching the past six months but, if I couldn't dredge up anything useful, I could go back further. The program was estimated to take about two hours so I leaned back in my chair, wondering what I was going to do until it was done.

I happened to glance over to the corner of the cave and noticed Alfred struggling to pick up a duster he had dropped on the floor. I scrambled out of my seat and scurried over to help him. "Ohh, that is not necessary Master Timothy," Alfred insisted when I handed him the duster, "I am sure you have a great deal of work to do."

"That's ok," I answered brightly, "I have a program running right now." I glanced around the enormous cave and back at Alfred, who was turning around to continue his dusting. "Do you really have to clean this whole place by yourself?" I asked incredulously. Alfred gave me a wry smile.

"Master Bruce does not trust a great many people down here so an appropriately sized cleaning staff would not be welcome. I do have a schedule, however, so it all gets done eventually. I must admit though, this injury has me a bit behind so you shall have to forgive some errant dust."

"Why don't I help you?" I offered eagerly, "like I said, I have a program running and it's probably going to take a really long time anyway."

"Ohh no Master Timothy, I could not permit you, it is not your job."

"Ohh, come on," I begged, "please, please, please, I love helping people and I'm real good at cleaning." That was a bit of a fib. Growing up, I hadn't had to do a great deal of cleaning since we had always had maids but I understood the basic concepts and I cleaned my room now so I kind of knew what to do. I gave him my most winning smile and opened my eyes as large as I could like a small dog begging for table scraps. Alfred melted.

"Ohh, very well, you may help me clean a bit upstairs. It will be safer; there are a few dangerous things down here." I nodded eagerly and followed him into the elevator.

ttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt

Back in my room at home, I clicked through the data on my computer, which I had downloaded from the bat computer. It was almost ten p.m. and, though I would have liked to have remained at Wayne manor for longer, the last bus had left at 9:15 and I knew I had to catch it. It would be best for me not to overstay my welcome anyway.

The first program I had run had finished and I had even been able to start a second, a search of recent pictures of my father, with the data uploading on my personal computer as it was generated. It would probably be days before the search was complete but I was hoping all the pictures would help me pinpoint a little more specifically where he had been recently, since they came with information about the location the picture was taken, if that was available. Mostly, I was relying on people's social media posts, traffic cams and other photos where he might have been captured as part of the background since I doubted he was taking any pictures of his own when he traveled. At least, for now, I had the travel data, which I stared at through vision blurred with exhaustion.

It had been fun helping Alfred clean. I had asked him all sorts of questions about the manor, which he answered without even seeming like he was annoyed at me. I never had any problem coming up with questions, I was full of them and Wayne manor had all sorts of interesting things to ask questions about. On the bus ride home, my head had been swimming with tales of Mr. Wayne's ancestors and how their stories intertwined with the history of Gotham herself. It had also been nice to have someone to talk to and to be helpful, especially after Alfred told me what a good job I did. I wasn't sure if I had actually done a good job but I loved the praise and tried not to overthink it.

The butler had asked me if I wanted some dinner, which he had just started preparing for Mr. Wayne as I was gathering my things to head out, but I respectfully declined. It didn't seem right to take Mr. Wayne's food. After all, he was already doing so much for me. That left me to nibble on saltine crackers with jam at home since I hadn't had time to go shopping. I would have to go tomorrow, which was a bummer since I would have preferred to return to the cave straight away. Maybe I could go before school, if I didn't stay up too late tonight that is.

My father, I found, had been all over the world recently, everywhere from Bolivia to Pakistan to Krakow. I wondered what he could possibly have been doing in all those different places. One destination in particular stuck out though. About a month prior, he had flown into Sesriem, in Namibia, a country in Africa I had not known anything about before that day. Sesriem was a tiny town that was known mostly as a gateway into Namib-Naukluft National Park. This national park, Wikipedia told me, was home to the Namib desert, one of the most ancient deserts in the world and much of it was basically inaccessible. My dad had no great love for sightseeing or deserts so there was no obvious reason why he should be headed to one. This immediately piqued my interest but, despite intensive research until close to one in the morning, I turned up nothing and eventually fell asleep sprawled across my keyboard.


	6. Chapter 5

A few days passed and the pictures of my father trickled in. I wrote a program to group them by date and location and another to correlate them with my father's travel plans. A picture of his movements was coming into focus as the data came together so, while those jobs continued to run on the computers, I turned my sights to other lines of inquiry. I badly wanted to do some analysis on the samples I had picked up from Jeremy's apartment but I was nervous about using the scientific equipment in the cave without Batman specifically training me on any of it and the Dark Knight did not seem particularly…inclined to give me a hand.

When he came into the cave, which was rather frequent, he went out of his way to completely ignore me, almost to the point of absurdity. It was like he couldn't quite come to terms with my being there and did not want to deal with it. The first day he and I happened to be there at the same time, I gave him a tentative wave and said hello, but he acted like he hadn't heard me, or even noticed I was there and I did not push the issue. He would use the monitor furthest away from me when I was working, always made sure he had his back to me, and would sometimes walk so close to me his cape brushed over me without so much as a slight glance in my direction. He was a dark, ominous presence, but not an overtly aggressive one so I just kept to myself and tried to be as quiet and unassuming as possible.

Alfred was nice though. I started helping him with the cleaning at least an hour a day and learned a lot about Wayne manor because of it. At first, he had been resistant to my helping him but I wore him down to the point that it became my habit to check the cleaning schedule when I arrived at the manor and he would have a task with my name on it. I loved the feeling of being helpful and all the attention he would give me. He asked me all sorts of questions about school and home and I answered them with gleeful exuberance, asking my own questions in return. The company was wonderful, as were the cookies he made for me as a little treat after I finished my chore. I knew he left the easiest chores for me to do but at least I was helping.

What was really bothering me though, was the clothing from Jeremy's apartment. The longer it sat in the trash bags in my apartment, the more I worried that the evidence I so badly needed was getting degraded and would eventually be gone. I was still far too intimidated by Batman to ask him for help though, and fairly convinced he would say no anyway. At one point, while Alfred was sweeping the kitchen and I was cleaning one of the many large ovens, I asked if maybe he could help me. "I am sorry Master Timothy, I am afraid I do not understand all that equipment nearly well enough to help out. My mind is far from being a scientific one. Why don't you ask the Master though, they are his instruments after all."

"Yea, yea," I agreed, leaning so far into the oven my whole torso was wedged inside, "but he…he scares me." I was greeted by a bemused expression from Alfred when I pulled myself back out.

"He will not hurt you Master Timothy."

"I know that," I grumbled, "I just…I mean… it doesn't matter, he'd say no anyway."

"You do not know that until you ask, young Master," Alfred replied pragmatically, "and you will not finish your investigation until you do." I gave a sigh and closed the oven.

"I know," I acquiesced wearily, "I'll ask him today." So, later that evening, as Batman was staring down a wall full of pictures and notes like a boxer in a ring, I came up behind him as quietly as I could, my head down and my eyes averted. "Umm…excuse me…umm, Mr. Wayne…umm Batman. I was wondering if you could maybe…umm…help me out with something."

For a moment, I thought he might ignore me like he had been doing but finally, just as I was about to walk away, he growled, "Can't you see I'm busy?"

"I…I'm sorry…never mind," I said, and hurriedly turned around.

"What do you need help with?" he grumbled, his voice slightly less scathing now. I had rehearsed this exchange about a dozen times in my head so I was ready with an answer, even though I had not really been expecting to use it.

"Well, I wanted to do some analysis on these samples I got from a crime scene and I wasn't sure where to…well, I wasn't sure where exactly to start." I held up the bag of evidence and Batman snatched it from me with a grunt, opening it up and spilling the contents across a nearby table. I winced a little as a few articles dropped onto the messy cave floor. I had been so careful to keep them from getting contaminated. Batman sifted through the articles for a few moments, handling each piece, and then turned back to me.

"Particulate analysis," he growled, "that should keep you busy for a while. Use this microscope here." He gestured roughly towards one of the many differently sized scopes on the table. "Go over each piece of clothing under the microscope and organize everything you find. Petri dishes are under here. Separate everything into fibers, soil samples, insects, plant matter and anything else you find." And, with his brusque speech complete, he turned around and stalked away. I paused for a second, trying to process what he had just very quickly snapped at me before getting to work.

The process was tedious but soothing. I carefully went over each article, even the ones dropped on the floor, and separated everything out. I even went so far as to excise small pieces of fabric that had interesting stains from the clothing, carefully marking where I got each sample from in the small spiral notebook I kept in my investigation binder. I wanted to do as good a job as I possibly could, not just because I was sure this was all vitally important but because I had this irrational hope that somehow, my efforts would impress Batman and maybe he would warm up to me a little. It seemed unlikely but I figured it was at least possible.

The sample collection took almost two hours once I was done cataloguing all the details I thought were important about each sample and separating it from the others. In total, I found 3 particles that looked like plant matter, two hairs that could have been from a dog and four that looked more human, one small spider that was not nearly dead enough, fifteen metal shavings, twelve large dirt particulates, two oil stains, one stain that was probably mustard, three blood stains and a small spot of ink. Proud of all that I had accomplished and the amount of material I had been able to obtain from the clothing items, I turned back to Batman with my notebook and trotted over to him.

The entire time I had been working, he had been sitting in front of that board full of notes and pictures, barely moving and totally silent to the point that I thought perhaps he had fallen asleep there. I learned very quickly that that was not the case, however, when he jolted up with a sudden roar, surprising me so much I fell back onto the ground. He threw a glass at the board where it shattered into a million pieces and stalked away from it, pausing in front of me.

"What do you want!?" He snarled.

"I…I finished the sorting you told me to do," I whispered, my eyes fixed on his large boots, "I thought maybe you could help me with what comes next."

"I don't have time," Batman yelled, "if I don't solve this case soon, a lot of people are going to die. Stay out of my way and don't bother me!" He stamped past me and on his way out hollered "Alfred, I need dinner!" I sat shaking on the ground for a long time because being yelled at by the Batman is a pretty startling thing, especially when you're like me and you hate being yelled at just in general. When I finally managed to gather my wits enough to get to my feet, I started back over to my work station, intending to quietly clean up and slink out. Clearly, Batman was in no mood to have me around and I wasn't inclined to push my luck.

Before I reached my things though, I turned to look at the board he had been staring at. Cautiously, I cast a glance at the doorway I had seen him disappear through and then approached the board, prepared to be yelled at again at any moment. The board was a sizeable one and was so covered in information, I was temporarily disoriented by it. It looked like Batman was looking into the Ermani family, Italian gangsters that were more than bad news. I didn't know a lot about the family but Batman seemed to have all their relevant info right there on the board. Well, he was probably eating dinner right now, I had a couple minutes.

I scooted up into his chair and sat back, staring at the board like he had been doing. It was then that I noticed he had left his cowl. I pursed my lips and then grabbed it, pulling it on. It smelled on the inside and was way too big for me but I tipped it back a bit so I could see out of the eyeholes. "I am Batman," I said softly in the gravelliest voice I could muster. Then, I giggled and got up, walking up close to the board with the cowl still on. What I gathered from carefully going over it was that Batman was trying to figure out where in Gotham the Ermani family was mixing up a new designer drug. This one was a particularly nasty variant of scarecrow fear gas mixed with a hint of joker laughing gas and crack cocaine, something you couldn't pay me to take but people seemed to really enjoy it, at least they did if they didn't die from it. According to the board, almost forty people already had.

Batman had a map of places where he checked already, all x'd out with a large red marker. It was almost comically over the top. I sat back down in the chair, twisting my fingers together like I always did when I was thinking. Batman was checking plenty of logical places, all likely to host a dangerous drug lab but they seemed too…obvious to me. Something tickled the back of my brain as I looked over the data he collected. He had marked on another map places where dealers had been caught and, as was too be expected, they were mostly in the "party" district of Gotham, where the rich kids went to get their drugs before hitting the clubs. Batman had not been looking for a drug lab in that area though because it was pretty much gentrified, and most drug labs came out of the old warehouse district by the docks. It was an area the police didn't bother looking as closely into, there was plenty of empty, abandoned space for setting up shop and the attacks by supervillains were infrequent since there weren't a lot of people around.

Despite these facts, I didn't see any reason why it should be a rule that all drug labs be there. It would make a lot of sense for a party drug to be made close to where it would be sold. Batman's board had one clue on it that pointed pretty significantly in that direction. Apparently, he had interrogated a suspect a few weeks prior that had almost cracked under the pressure before the police showed up and put an end to the Batman's "over-the-top" tactics, at least that was what it said in the notes. Right before the questions had come to an abrupt halt though, the dealer had shouted something garbled about peanut brittle of all things. That was what was bugging me. Why did that seem significant?

I walked away from the board, taking off the cowl and putting it back where I had found it. I walked thoughtfully back over to the computers and did a quick search of the area nearby the clubbing district. There it was! Just at the edge of the pleasant part of town where the respectable young adults partied was a sleazy little strip that had once housed one of the Penguin's failed ventures. Cobblepot was a grade A capitalist and most of the things he attempted went pretty well but he had decided to use that particular area to start a few smaller businesses, including one where he was making peanut brittle shaped like small penguins. What went wrong, however, was he tried to market these weird little creations as the next classic Thanksgiving treat and Calendar Man threw a fit. He was off his meds at the time and was pretty much indiscriminately attacking any supervillain who he deemed was encroaching on his motif. The peanut brittle idea quickly tanked after he attacked and the whole area had been abandoned ever since.

Hopping with glee, since I was pretty sure I had figured out where they were cooking the drugs, I happened to glance at the clock. I gave a yelp of alarm. The last bus to travel anywhere near Wayne Lane was about to pass right by and, after a moment of thought, I jotted down my idea on a sticky note, stuck it on the board and darted off to get my stuff.


	7. Chapter 6

"Timothy…TIMOTHY!" I jolted up with a squeal of terror, falling backwards in my chair with my head cracking hard against the floor. A black-gloved hand clamped over my mouth and I found myself looking up at the Batman. "Shh!" he hissed, "I don't want your father to know I'm here." I was in my room, or rather, on the floor of my room. I had just barely caught the bus earlier that evening and had, as usual, fallen asleep in my desk chair across my computer keyboard. I almost didn't remember where I was though, since I hardly expected to wake up to the Batman being in my bedroom. The clock on my wall that I glanced at said it was 2 a.m. I hadn't been asleep long.

Batman slowly removed the hand from my mouth when he saw the alarm leave me eyes. "It's ok," I said, sitting up slowly with my hand on the back of my smarting head, "my Dad's out of town, I'm the only one in the house." Batman frowned.

"You are…for how long?" I shrugged.

"Probably less than a week, since he didn't leave a note. Wh…what are you doing here?" At this point, Batman seemed suddenly…uncomfortable. That was super weird.

He drew himself up to full height, looking suitably intimidating and grunted, "The note you left was…useful." It took me a moment to remember what he was talking about.

"It was," I squealed excitedly when it came to me, "was I right?"

"You…were. How did you figure it out?" I shrugged self-consciously.

"I just thought it through was all," I said softly, looking down at my bare toes so I didn't have to meet his intense gaze. I was overwhelmingly aware of the fact that that he was in my embarrassingly messy bedroom and I was in my Nightwing PJs. At least my scale replica of Wayne Manor was in the closet.

"That was…good detective work," Batman grunted, the words coming out like pulled teeth. "I was wondering if you would possibly want to…assist me further on the case."

"Really," I squealed excitedly, jumping to my feet. Then, I remembered myself and sobered. "I mean, yea, I would…I would be more than happy to assist you…I mean, if I can." Batman looked me over appraisingly.

"Put on some clothes and meet me downstairs in five minutes." I nodded exuberantly and started getting dressed as he left. Then, I was bounding down the stairs, all my exhaustion forgotten. I found the batmobile waiting for me in the alley beside my house and, without a second though, leapt excitedly inside. Batman looked me over with a frown.

"What are you wearing?"

"It's my costume," I answered brightly, "for going undercover." I was in the costume I had been wearing the last time I had gone out to do field work, although I had ditched the shower cap.

"It looks terrible" Batman grunted and sent the car surging off into the darkness.

"Where are we going?" I asked interestedly as I gathered my legs underneath me so I could push myself up enough to peer out the window. Batman didn't answer me so I decided I would just quietly look out the window until he was ready to chat. We were driving through a part of town I hadn't seen before and, after about ten minutes, we reached what must have been our destination. The car stopped, facing what looked like an empty wall and the end of a dead-end street and Batman flicked a switch on the dashboard. After a second, the wall, which had looked perfectly normal and solid, suddenly flipped up towards us like a dog door flap and the car slid smoothly inside. "Cool," I yipped, "How long has that been there? Is this like a secret hideout? Do you have more places like this in the city? Has anyone ever accidently found one? Is it…"

"You ask a lot of questions," Batman growled, cutting me off, "and none of them are relevant to why we are here." I sobered a little, my head down shamefully and averted my eyes.

"Sorry," I mumbled. Batman just grunted and got out of the car. I scrambled out behind him and found we were in a room about the size of an average McDonalds, just big enough to house the Batmobile and a space nearby with an assortment of medical supplies and the like, along with a board like the one that had been in the Batcave, this one also covered with information about the Ermanis.

I stood for a moment beside the Batmobile, marveling at this perfectly concealed little safehouse. I saw that in the back there was even a little bed and some clothing, as well as a spare Batsuit. My wonder was interrupted, however by Batman's summons. "Come here," he grumbled, gesturing for me to come over to the board. I dutifully obeyed, trotting to his side. I looked up at him expectantly, waiting for him to tell me what he wanted and was a little surprised when he flinched and broke eye contact, almost like he was afraid of me. That couldn't be right though, Batman wasn't afraid of anything. He composed himself after a moment, cleared his throat and spoke.

"I…have been having trouble with this case and I have been…working it for some time. You…helped with the first part. The Ermani's were hosting their production out of that location and I was able to go there and take them down but unfortunately, I found evidence they had just released a large shipment of the drugs to be sold in Metropolis. I need to know how they are shipping them and I need to know tonight, before they leave the city."

"And you want my help?" I asked, gazing up at him with wide, awe-filled eyes. Batman sniffed and looked away from me again.

"Your presence will at least not hinder my operation and you may perhaps prove useful. We don't have much time though and I…haven't been able to find anything compelling yet. Anyway, I wouldn't have been able to shut down the lab so quickly without your assistance." He didn't look happy about giving me the amount of credit that he was giving me, which I could understand. It sent my head spinning, the fact that me, a little kid, could have figured something out that the great Batman couldn't. I understood though, at least kind of. It wasn't his fault, it was just…Jason. I didn't say that though.

Instead, I blushed a little and said softly, "I didn't really do anything, you for sure would have figured it out soon. It's probably just 'cause my eyes are fresh, you know. Sometimes, when you've been looking at something for a really long time, things get all jumbled in your head." A little of the tension left Batman's shoulders at my words, so I could tell he had appreciated them and, pleased, I turned to the board. Batman took this cue to convey what information he had.

"The Ermanis have a few fronts that they typically use for transporting goods but none of them are listed as having anything headed towards Metropolis this evening. Nonetheless, I've alerted Gordan to what is occurring and he has officers on the ground checking into all of them. I doubt they would ship such important cargo through a means they even thought we might know about."

"How do you know there is a shipment going to Metropolis?" I asked, looking over the board.

"They had very little finished product on the premises and a lot of discarding packages. In addition to that, I interrogated a few of the chemists but was unable to extract a shipping means before they…were incapacitated." I gulped, wondering what exactly had happened to those unfortunate individuals. "I'm not sure they knew anyway," he continued, "the packaging that was left lying around was unmarked. The Ermanis tend to be carefully about making sure no one knows more than they need to. It's likely the boxes are being taken to a secondary location in another vehicle to be labeled and transferred there before heading to Metropolis, which is why I think we may have time to figure this out before the stuff leaves the city."

"Ok," I mused, "do you know how big the shipment is supposed to be?"

"One hundred boxes, each containing fifty pounds." I whistled.

"What are they going to do with all that?"

"Once the drug reaches Metropolis, it will likely be shipped to other locations, maybe even overseas. It has been quite…popular."

"So," I said slowly, thoughtfully, "they are going to need a pretty big truck, something with enough room to accommodate those boxes plus a bunch that contain whatever legitimate thing they are trying to use as a front, right?" Batman gave me a sharp nod. I paused a second and cast a sideways glance at him. "Can you…can you tell me about their other shipping fronts?"

"They have three," Batman grunted, "damn it, those should be up on this board too." He stalked off with a snarl and came back a few minutes later with a binder, almost like the one I carried about.

"You don't have this stuff digitized," I asked skeptically, and then immediately regretted it when he gave me a withering glare.

"I do, but I think better with a physical copies. Now, stop asking stupid questions and focus! These are the three companies, Papa Garboni's Homemade Marinara, Casa Di Ravioli and Dancing Horse Ferrari custom parts." I gave a snort.

"Those are stereotypically Italian." Batman grunted in agreement.

"Jorge Ermani has a poor sense of humor."

"That's good though," I said, feeling a little spark of excitement, "that might help us figure it out." I looked over the board intently but suddenly became aware that I could really only see the bottom half.

"Do you have a stool," I asked shyly, "I…I can't see the top." Batman thought for a moment and then, without warning, grasped the back of my costume and hauled me up. I gave a squeal of surprise and wrapped my arms reflexively around his neck to steady myself.

"Better?" he growled questioningly.

"Yep," I squeaked, still holding on so tightly to him, my face was pressed to his shoulder. It had been a long time since I had been held by an adult and honestly, I wouldn't put it past Batman just to drop me if he got annoyed with me. After a moment though, I managed to gain enough composure to turn back to the board. The top was populated primarily by pictures of angry looking Italian men and women with large guns and big muscles. I pursed my lips, something tickling the back of my mind. "They all…they all have the same tattoo." Batman nodded.

"That is typical for gangs." The tattoo in question was an unusual one, a large swan spread across the person's chest with the wings outstretched towards his or her shoulders and the neck wrapped around their neck so that the head, with glowing red eyes, was positioned over the person's throat. What was bugging me about it though, was that I had seen it before.

"Does everyone who works for the Ermani's have the tattoo?" I asked.

"No," Batman replied, "just the really high ranking members. All of them are pictured here."

"All of them?" I asked.

"What are you getting at?" Batman growled.

"I…I've seen that tattoo before, but not on any of these people." Batman frowned at me.

"On who?"

"Do you…do you have a computer here?" In answer, Batman carried me over to a corner of the room where there was a small laptop.

"It is connected to the Batman computer," the Dark Knight explained, "anything you can do there, you can do here. He put me down very gently in front of the computer and hovered above me, his hands resting just behind me on the top of the chair I was in. He probably thought I was going to run some complicated program but I actually just pulled up Google.

"I went to this place a while back with my dad," I muttered as I searched, "and I remembered…ahh, here it is." I pulled up the website of an Italian coffee shop in the neighborhood of one of my dad's old offices called BUONGIORNO! Batman looked at the site skeptically.

"How is this relevant?"

"The last time we went, one of the baristas spilled coffee over one of Dad's super expensive suits so the owner…wait, let me see if I can find a picture of him…" I clicked around on the site for a few minutes until I found what I was searching for, a short bio about the owner complete with a large, professional photo of a stern Italian man, black hair greased back from his face and dark arms crossed.

"Get to the point," Batman snarled.

"Well, look at his neck!" I sputtered and, for emphasis, zoomed in. The man was wearing a black shirt and dark gray scarf but, when I zoomed in, you could just spot a few white feathers just above his atoms apple.

"I saw more of it when my dad and I were there, I think it's the same as the others." Batman stared at the picture, thinking hard.

"You're sure it's the same?" he muttered thoughtfully, eyes fixed on the screen.

"No," I mumbled, "but…I think it is. This fits the pattern of Italian themed places. Maybe we could check if they are scheduled to ship anything tonight." Batman gave a stiff nod and, without another word lifted me up and out of the chair like I was a puppy and put me down on the ground beside him. Then, he started typing furiously, his broad back mostly obscuring what he was doing so I was left trying to peer over his shoulder. After a moment, he stopped, staring at the information on the screen. Then, without another word, he got up out of the chair and started striding towards the door. I skipped to keep up with him.

"Where are you going," I asked, "What did you find?"

"I think you're right," Batman said sharply, "I'm going to go check it out."

"Cool," I squealed, and then stopped. "But, what about me?" Batman paused in front of the door for a minute then said sharply.

"I don't have time to take you home just yet so you can…come along but you WILL stay in the car, do you understand? Under no circumstances are you to exit the vehicle. If you do there will be serious consequences." He glared down at me and I gulped.

"Yes sir," I squeaked, "I promise I'll stay in the car. I wouldn't be any help anyway."

"No," Batman growled, "you wouldn't be. Come on, hurry!" I followed him eagerly out the door and into the car and, without even waiting for me to sit down, he slammed his foot down onto the gas and we were careening at a ridiculous speed across the city. I was thrown back into the seat and clung on as tightly as I could, letting go with one hand only briefly to buckle my seatbelt so I didn't go flying when he stopped, which turned out to be prudent since he treated the brakes the same as he had treated the gas and we came to a screeching halt only about ten minutes after we had left. I could see we were in an alleyway about a block from the café.

Batman jumped out of the car and was about to rush off into the darkness when he turned to glare at me. "Do. Not. Move. Do you understand?" I nodded, making myself as small as possible in my seat and watched as he disappeared into the shadows, locking the door behind him as he went. It felt like he was gone forever, although in reality, it couldn't have been more than a few short minutes. I watched intently through the window, wondering what I would do if something happened to him. I felt a little guilty all of the sudden, like I had sent him into the danger by figuring this all out. After all, he wasn't exactly in the best shape and he probably shouldn't have been putting himself into danger but, before I could muse over it too much, the fight came sprawling out into the street in front of me.

Batman was in good form that night, easily cutting through the thugs in front of him and I was totally enthralled. I had seen loads of videos of him fighting but something about being there in person was exhilarating. I was gripping the edge of my seat as they toppled over each other trying to escape and Batman came after them like a hunting hound, dragging them down. It wasn't long before they were all tied up and sprawled across each other in a groaning, griping heap. Batman loomed over them menacingly for a few moments and then turned, returning to the car.

As soon as he sat down in his seat, I was all over him like a puppy when you get home from school. "That was so cool," I squealed, bouncing up and down in my seat, "the way you did that spin kick on that guy, that was awesome! And the way you tripped that one guy with another guy, it was insane, I've never seen anything like it!"

"You stayed in the car," was his only reply, sounding almost surprised.

"'Course I did," I affirmed in consternation, "you told me too. Besides, I wouldn't be any help out there and you took 'em all down before I could even blink. That was so COOL!" For emphasis, I grabbed his arm, my body vibrating with barely restrained elation over the sheer awesomeness of what I had seen and for the first time, I saw a hint of a smile.

The barest trace of a grin was there on his face and he said, "Sit down so I can take you home." There was bite in his tone but the smile ruined it and eagerly, I sat back down in my seat and buckled myself in before we sped away into the night. It took only a few short minutes to reach my place but I was already slumping with exhaustion in my seat when we arrived. I observed with dismay that the sky was growing light on the horizon. It would only be a few short hours before I had to get up from school and I had barely slept a wink. Batman noticed my face and grunted, "What is it?"

"I'm gonna fall asleep in school again today," I mumbled, "I hate doing that. The kid that sits behind me in geometry always spits in my hair when I do." Batman considered me for a moment as I clambered out of the car.

"Don't go in to school today," he said, "I'll…I'll call in sick for you."

"You will?" I asked hopefully, "You'll pretend to be my dad?"

"Yes," Batman agreed, "Since…since you assisted me. You…did well tonight Timothy." I felt like I might explode, I had never felt such elation in my whole life as I did in that moment drinking in the praise he gave me.

"Thank you, thank you for everything, this was the best night of my life!" I bounced up and down beside the Batmobile for a moment and then, not wanting to keep him, scurried inside, up the stairs and into bed. I was asleep when my head hit the pillow.


	8. Chapter 7

I dozed well into the afternoon until almost five p.m. When I finally woke up, I was still groggy and wanted nothing more than to roll over and go back to sleep but the thought of my samples still in the Batcave had me lurching up and out of bed, not to mention the hunger. I couldn't remember how long it had been since I'd last had something to eat. I started making alphabet SpaghettiO's, stirring the pot contemplatively on the stove as I considered my options.

Batman had seemed pretty happy with me earlier, or at least, as happy as he could be, which wasn't necessarily saying much. I hoped that today, we might actually get to do some analysis on the samples I had so meticulously collected but I tried not to get my hopes up. I was debating whether or not I should even head over. He would probably be annoyed, seeing me twice in what was technically only one day. After slurping down the "T's", which I always saved for last, and wiping my mouth, I decided I should try to compound on the moderate success in making Batman happy I had had earlier in the day and head over to the cave. So, I packed up, wrote a note for my dad in case he came home and was wondering where I was (unlikely but possible), and headed out. Since I was still pretty tired from the night before, it took me longer than usual to bike to the manor but, once I arrived, Alfred greeted me warmly.

"I hear you were quite helpful to the master yesterday evening, young Timothy," he said, his eyes sparkling.

"Really, he said that?!" I chirped excitedly.

"In a manner of speaking," the butler replied, "I have learned to read his "nonverbal" cues after working with him for so long. Might I say that you may some day be quite an accomplished detective." I grinned and turned a tight circle with excitement. "Now," Alfred continued, "have you had dinner yet?"

"Yep," I affirmed eagerly, "I had a can of SpaghettiO's just before I left home so I'm ready to get started on my chores!" I thought Alfred might faint.

"Master Timothy," he said sternly, drawing up to his full height with his back straight, "you will come into this kitchen this instant and have a proper meal with vegetables and meat. Spaghettio's is no food for a growing young man such as yourself."

"Ohh, it's ok Alfred," I insisted, "I'm fine. Most of what I eat is like that and I've always been fine." If Alfred had looked angry before, he was furious now.

"Young man, sit down in that kitchen and eat some real food or I will not permit you into the cave."

"Aww," I moaned, "I'm ok, really!" Alfred shook his head sharply and strode into the kitchen, beckoning for me to follow. I did so reluctantly, eager to get my chores done so I could get down into the cave. I did as I was told though and devoured everything the butler put in front of me, which was all delicious.

Alfred watched approvingly as I cleaned my plate and said, once I had finished and was scooting off my stool, "There is a new rule around here young master." I cocked my head like a confused puppy, looking up at him. "You are not permitted to work in this manor, chores or otherwise, unless you have had proper meals. Therefore, when you come over, you must have dinner before you proceed any further with activities. Additionally, I will pack you a healthy breakfast and lunch to take with you when you go."

I turned a little pink and stammered, "Y…you really don't have to do that, I don't want to cause any trouble around here, I'm trying to be as invisible as possible."

"I will not take no for an answer young man," Alfred replied, "besides, it is no trouble. I must prepare all of Master Bruce's meals and there is always a great deal left over. I am used to cooking for three." I gave him a small grin.

"Well, if you really don't mind," I said softly, my eyes averted, "that would be awful nice of you." Alfred put a hand under my chin and raised my face so that I was looking into his eyes. They were warm and soft and crinkled around the edges like my grandfather's had been.

"It would be my pleasure." I grinned back at him and then, on impulse, wrapped my arms around him and hugged him tightly. It had just been such a long time since someone had cared what I ate or even if I ate that I almost didn't know how to react. Alfred hugged me back and then said, "You had best get moving, I am sure you have a great deal to do today." I nodded eagerly and bounced off to vacuum the rooms on the fourth floor of the east wing of the manor. Alfred's foot was much better now and he was moving more quickly but I still insisted on helping out and he still let me, which I appreciated. Secretly, I liked the excuse to hang around the manor a little longer since returning home to my dark and empty house was always the low point of my day.

Once I finished my chore, I bounced down into the Batcave, eager to get started analyzing my samples. Shockingly, when I walked past Batman on my way to my stuff and said my customary hello, he responded with a grunt and a head nod in my direction. Actually being acknowledged threw me so off balance, I almost forgot why I was down there in the first place and had to pause for a few minutes and collect my thoughts. Once I had, pleasure glowing in me that he was slowly starting to accept having me around, I made my way over to where my samples were and considered them.

I remembered as I checked them over to make sure they were all still as I had left them that I, in fact, still needed Batman's help with my analysis and would not be able to go any further on my own. That was…concerning because he had looked busy when I had passed him. Being acknowledged was a pretty big step and I didn't want to push things too far but I couldn't do anything else without help so, as quietly as possible, I approached him, eyes on my toes and shoulders slightly slouched like a turtle in it's shell. I always unconsciously tried to look small when I had to ask someone for a favor. "Um…excuse me Mr. Wayne…umm…Batman… I was wondering if you could…umm…help me." I looked up from my sneakers to see him looking at me, his blue-eyed gaze a little softer than it usually was. He was in full costume except for the cowl and, seeing Bruce Wayne's head protruding from the Batman costume was disorienting.

"What do you need help with?" he asked.

"Well," I replied, eyes snapping back down to the cave floor, "yesterday you had me separate my samples and I wanted to know what…to do next, or if you could help me with the next bit." Batman looked back at the pile of files in front of him that he had been considering and then back at me, his lips pursed.

"I suppose," he grumbled, "I have a few minutes. Show me what you want help with."

"Ohh, thank you, thank you!" I exclaimed, bouncing back towards my samples with him striding in my wake. "So," I started, thoughts bursting from my lips like a dam breaking, "I figured maybe for the blood samples, we could do some sequencing, see if there are any other contributors besides Jeremy. I know it's a little bit of a longshot but I took Jeremy's toothbrush from his apartment so I have some DNA for comparison. Of course, I guess the blood could be his girlfriend's and I haven't figured out how to get a sample from her yet but maybe soon. I also got some metal shavings and I was doing some research to see what would be the best way to identify what kind of metal but I was curious to get your thoughts to see what was feasible. There are a couple things I can do by myself but I thought that…"

"Hold on," Batman grumbled, "you don't get all my time. Pick one thing." My face fell a little.

"Right…sorry, I just…got excited. Um…let me see what would be the most useful thing." Batman looked over the samples I collected as I flipped through my notes.

"You certainly were…meticulous." I nodded eagerly, briefly glancing up from my notes at him.

"Yea, I figured the more I have to work with, the better, you know. Ok…how about this oil stain. Could we do some analysis on this? I did a lot of research and found out there are a lot of tests you could do with oil to identify its impurities and composition. Maybe…maybe we could start with FTIR?" Batman raised his eyebrows.

"Do you even know what FTIR is?"

I nodded, a broad smile on my face and said, "Fourier transform infrared spectroscopy! You can use it to identify the emission and absorption spectrum of different components of a sample. I mean…I've never done it but I thought it was a pretty cool technique so I read a lot about it."

"It is a very…interesting technique," Batman agreed, "although I am surprised you think so. In my experience, boys your age do not usually think analysis techniques are particularly compelling."

"Ohh, I do," I replied, "I think it's super cool that you can just insert a sample and know everything that's in it! IR is one of my favorite techniques!" I leaned a little closer to him and murmured conspiratorially, "I actually think mass spectrometry is probably a little cooler but that's only 'cause I like reading the spectrograms. They're like little puzzles!"

I saw Batman purse his lips like he was holding back a laugh as he said in a husky voice, "That sounds like an appropriate place to start. I have a standardized pipeline for oil analysis I usually follow but FTIR is an important component so we can start there." For the next few hours, we worked together and he was practically pleasant to me, which was saying a lot. He answered my myriad questions, albeit in a grumbling tone, but was thorough about showing me how to use the different instruments and equipment, even pausing so I could take notes. At the end, when we had performed every step on his oil analysis pipeline, he submitted the results to a special program on the computer so that we could get an identification of the specific brand of oil and a possible place of origin.

I barely noticed the time passing, I was so enthralled with it all. Here we were, performing techniques I had read about but never thought I myself would get to see firsthand, and with a sample I had collected no less. Batman seemed to lose track as well, because he swore loudly when he noticed the time on the computer as he was submitting the data we had collected. "I have to go," he growled, "You can figure out what to do with the results of all this on your own." He turned away, striding quickly towards the Batmobile with his cape sweeping over me as he did, and pulled his cowl over his head. He paused briefly before getting into the car and, without turning around said, "Perhaps tomorrow we can work on another one of the samples you collected."

"Ok," I agreed excitedly, "thank you!" He nodded sharply, leapt into the car and was gone in an instant. I watched him go, momentarily dazzled by the Batmobile in motion and then glanced at the clock myself. I yelped with fear, checking the time on my phone as well just to be sure it was right. It was already 11 p.m., way past the time the bus was gone! How was I going to get home? I nibbled my bottom lip, feeling myself beginning to overheat with the stress of the situation. There was no way I could walk or even bike, I wouldn't make it home before noon of the next day, if that. If I rode my bike a little closer to the city, it was possible a bus would come by before 2 a.m., but I didn't know. I also didn't like the idea of being outside at a bus stop by myself in the middle of the night.

Before I could decide what to do however, Alfred made his way downstairs. "Master Timothy," he exclaimed, "I did not realize you were still here. You have missed your bus."

"I know," I said miserably, "I lost track of time. I don't know what I'm gonna do."

"Is your father home?" Alfred asked, "Perhaps he can come and get you." I shook my head.

"He's still out of town."

"Well," Alfred said, "I am afraid with my leg still in this state, I cannot drive so you shall simply have to stay here."

"Ohh no," I countered, "I couldn't. I don't want to be a bother. I think I have enough money to get a taxi."

"A small boy like you alone in a taxi," Alfred scoffed, "I think not. I am not even particularly comfortable with you riding the bus here by yourself. You are more than welcome to stay, it is no bother at all. In the morning then, you can catch the bus back to your house or we can have Master Bruce drive you." I shook my head vigorously.

"No," I yelped, horrified, "I couldn't bother him like that, it would be way too much trouble. Do you…do you really not mind my staying here?" Alfred smiled at me.

"No, of course not Master Timothy. With your father gone, it is best you stay here anyway. It is not good for a young boy like you to be home all alone." I shrugged.

"I get by ok, but I appreciate you letting me stay. I'll be just fine on the couch." Alfred snorted, a very un-Alfred sounding noise.

"You most certainly will not. Come with me." He led me back up into the manor past a maze of doors I barely took in since I was so exhausted, something I only noticed now that my work was done. "You should find this room sufficiently comfortable," he said, opening the door for me, "it is quite close to mine so, should you need anything, you will be able to easily summon me with this bell." The room was spacious and opulent, with a comfortable looking bed, an on-suite bathroom, and a long chord with a bell attached right by the bed that he was indicating. It could have been a hole in the ground for how tired I was feeling now.

"Thank you," I said wearily, "it's perfect."

"Why don't you take a shower and I will bring you something to sleep in. I believe some of Master Dick's old pajamas from when he was your age are around here somewhere." I knew I probably should take a shower but I made the mistake of crawling up onto the bed just to see how soft it was and, almost as my head hit the pillow, I was fast asleep.


	9. Chapter 8

The case had gone cold. I hated to admit it but it had and there didn't seem to be anything I, or the detectives who had actually been assigned to the thing, could do about it. Serial killers had always seemed rather mundane compared to the villains I had fought with the Batman. They were mysterious and acted in the shadows but they rarely reached the body count of someone like the Joker, or even the Penguin. Besides that, we had never had a proper one in Gotham, probably because if you wanted to quietly hunt and kill people, it was best to do it in a place were there wasn't a really good detective with little regard for laws or the basic human rights of criminals.

There was a serial killer in Blϋdhaven now though, my very first. I had been hoping to assist the detectives quietly and be able to strut home, chest puffed out, boasting over how I had caught my first serial killer all on my own but, now that ten people had been killed in relatively quick succession, it was time for me to admit that I needed help. I needed the Batman. We hadn't spoken since the argument over the kid, which suited me just fine since I was still pretty pissed, but my concern over people dying ended up winning over my pride. Reluctantly, I packed up the files and info that I had, sent him a message that I was coming by on official vigilante business and motorcycled over to Gotham in civilian clothes, not looking to attract too much attention. I cruised into the cave, parked and looked around, wondering if it was possible that Bruce was upstairs. He should have greeted me right away, since the computer would have told him I had used my access code to get in, but he didn't. "Hello," I called, feeling stupid. My voice reverberated around the cave and, a moment later, a small person came scurrying up to me.

"Hiya!" he said excited, "How's it going? "I stared, shocked, down at the kid, that same kid from before… Tim Drake.

"Hi…" I said slowly, "what…what are you doing here?" Then, a horrible thought occurred to me. "He's not…keeping you hostage here, is he?" Tim snorted and giggled.

"No," he scoffed, "he's just letting me work here. I wish I could stay all the time though, this place is sooooooooo cool! It's really good to see you!" He beamed up at me, his eyes bright with excitement and, for a moment, it was like I was looking at Jason. I swallowed hard, a wave of nausea and grief sweeping over me, and breathed in deeply through my nose, hoping he wouldn't notice my distress.

"It's good to see you too, hey, do you know where Batman is?"

"He's with the Justice League," Tim answered brightly, "said he'd be with them for the rest of the week probably. Some big galactic crisis or something is what he said. I asked questions but, you know, he just kind of grunted at me so I don't really know anything about it." I swore quietly under my breath.

"Well, that just blows. I needed his help."

"On a case?" Tim chirped excitedly. I nodded.

"Yea, we have a serial killer in Blϋdhaven."

"Woah," Tim said, his eyes wide, "that's so cool, I mean, it's not cool, it's scary but…woah." I smirked.

"It is scary and this guy has been escalating really quick so I need to catch him like now but I'm a little…stuck. 'fraid I've never been as good a detective as Batman." I gave him a sheepish look but he returned with an elated one.

"Maybe I can help," he offered exuberantly, "I love mysteries!"

"Aww, that's sweet of you to offer kid but I don't know that there's much you could do."

"I suspect Master Timothy would be able to help more than you would expect, Master Richard."

"Alfred," I said happily, turning around to face the butler. I embraced him tightly, minding the tray of milk and cookies he had brought down for me. Right now, he was the best part of the manor. "I don't suppose you know when the big guy is supposed to be getting back," I asked as I accepted the tray and settled down in a nearby chair.

"Master Bruce was as sparing on the details with me as he was with Master Timothy. I did also get the impression it would be some time, however. I was serious about Master Timothy assisting you though. Master Bruce just recently solved a case entirely due to this young man's assistance." I looked over at Tim in surprise, who was blushing bright red and gazing intently at his feet.

"It wasn't just me Alfred," he replied sheepishly, "and I didn't help too much."

"He is far too modest," Alfred insisted, "show him what you have and I have no doubt the case will be solved today."

"Don't say that," Tim protested in horror, "I really am not that good! I'm really not!" He turned desperately to me, looking even more embarrassed, which made me chuckle.

"Well, anything you can give me would be a big help kiddo and Alfred isn't prone to exaggerating. Why don't you show me what you got?"

"O…ok," Tim said nervously, and came over close as I laid the files out on a table in front of me. He stood on his tiptoes and peered over the edge of the table, looking tinier than ever. I almost laughed, watching him read from his precarious position. Bruce loved to stand and work so he had always made the tables too damn tall, something I'd hated as a kid, and there were never enough chairs around. Without really thinking about it, I scooped Tim up and settled him neatly on my lap.

"Ok kid," I began, "let me give you the run down." I arranged the files a little and started the presentation I had originally prepared for Bruce. "He calls himself the Wendigo and he's a cannibal." I paused for a bit of dramatic effect but Tim just nodded.

"That makes sense," he said.

"It…it does?" I asked, confused.

"Yea," Tim confirmed, "the Wendigo is the Algonquian cannibal spirit."

"Cannibal spirit?" I enquired queasily.

"Some Algonquian Native American tribes believed the spirit could inhabit a person's body and make them do really terrible things, like eat people, especially in times of famine, but others believed that it was an actual physical creature that could do the eating all on it's own. I don't know which tribes believed what though. Sorry." He gave me a shame-faced, apologetic look, like he should have known that obscure tidbit on top of all the other obscure tidbits he had just shared with me.

"That's ok," I said, ruffling his hair and grabbing a cookie, "that was all super helpful already, I didn't know any of that. How did you?" Tim shrugged.

"I went through a phase where I was investigating a lot of these supposedly mythical creatures."

"Supposedly?"

"Well, when there are Martians and men who can run faster than time, Bigfoot doesn't seem as far-fetched as people think."

"Touché," I replied, "remind me to steer clear of the forest. Anyway, he was originally only taking about one victim a month but that was for the first two or three months. He's been escalating for a while. He's reached ten confirmed victims and we aren't any closer to catching him than when he first cropped up. We never find whole victims, always just pieces with bite marks, usually cooked but sometimes still…raw." I gulped, feeling nauseous, but Tim only looked fascinated, gazing up at me with wide blue eyes. I wondered if I should be telling this tiny child all this but he seemed really into it and, if he could help Batman, I really hoped he could help me.

"He always leaves a letter with the victim, a little taunting note about how we'll never catch him, blah blah blah, except for the most recent."

"What happened with that one?" Tim asked.

"We only found a note, no body. I have a photocopy of it here." I passed a sheet of paper to him and he perused it eagerly. I didn't even bother looking at it again. I had read it so many times, I practically had it memorized.

_I know I should have included this with her, as usual, but I didn't want to spoil the show. After all, you already found her. I hope you enjoyed her as much as I did. -Wendigo_.

"Hmm," Tim mused, "do you know which body this note belongs with?"

"No," I replied, feeling the same frustration I had felt every time I read the stupid letter, "we haven't found any body parts from victims that fit his type recently enough to say that they're his."

"What is his type?" Tim asked.

"He likes blond women, but like…bottle blond. He's never gone after a natural blond. They're always between the ages of 22 and 34 and he always takes them from the downtown area, pretty close to my police precinct actually. We think he stalks them for a while because none of them live in that area, they all either work nearby or are just passing through and he seems pretty deliberate about his targets."

"And he said you had already found the last victim…" Tim said slowly. I could see behind his eyes that he was thinking hard and I wondered what was going through his head. I nodded.

"Although we have no clue what that means, since we don't think we have." Tim gulped and looked up at me a bit guiltily.

"What?" I asked with a chuckle, finishing off my first cookie and going for the second.

"Have you, I mean, has your department…had any big meals recently. Like, for the whole department? Potlucks or anything like that." I was confused by the question but I answered it anyway.

"I mean, we have stuff like that all the time. People donate food and we have parties and stuff. We've had a few catered events within the last couple weeks as well, but I don't see how that…" A wave of horror washed over me. "You don't think that…" I felt bile rising in my throat. "You don't think we…ate her?" Tim nodded slowly.

"Fuck," I swore, leaning back in the chair with my hands over my eyes as I dropped my half-eaten cookie, "you're right, of course you're right, fuck!" I covered my mouth with my hand, trying to fight down my nausea.

"But this is good," Tim said excitedly. I gazed at him incredulously. "I mean…not the whole eating a person thing, that's not good but it gives us something to work with." I gave him a weak glance.

"If we get a list of people who gave food to the police department and the people who catered police events in the weeks just before the letter arrived, we'll be able to narrow the search. The Wendigo must work for a catering company or something to be able to slip in a dish with a person in it." The logic made sense but it didn't make me feel any better. I pursed my lips thoughtfully, trying not to think about how much I had enjoyed literally every meal I had had in the last couple weeks. Free food is just so welcome on a police officer's salary.

"Ok," I said slowly, pushing past my disgust as I pushed away the tray Alfred had brought down, my appetite gone, "I don't have that information but I know where we can get it. We'll have to go back to Blϋdhaven. Do you want to come?" Tim nodded eagerly, bouncing up and off my lap with excitement.

"That would be awesome, do you mind?"

"No," I said, smiling at him and getting up, "you would probably be a big help. You've helped me so far." Tim blushed and looked down at his feet.

"Can we leave now?"

"Sure," I decided, "let's go." I paused. "Are you sure your dad would be ok with you coming with me?"

"Sure," Tim chirped, "dad's sleeping, he just got back from a big trip, so he'd rather I wasn't around the house anyway."

"Ok," I agreed, feeling a stab of pity for the kid. If my dad or Bruce hadn't wanted me around when I was his age, I doubt I would have been so accepting of the fact but I was in a rush to solve the case so I didn't press. Instead, I searched around the cave until I found one of my old robin helmets, the smallest I could locate, which fit him reasonably well, and then we were speeding off towards Blϋdhaven.

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We arrived at the police station after about an hour and a half of driving, which is a long time to be on a motorcycle. The commute to and from Gotham always had me and my nether regions wondering why I didn't just get a car but I had to give Tim credit because he didn't complain once. He eagerly leapt off the bike when we arrived at our destination, his eyes bright and his body vibrating with excitement. "It's so cool to be here again," he said, "it was the coolest day of my life coming to see you here. Well, maybe second coolest. The coolest was probably when I saw you do your signature flip in person but this was also pretty cool." I grinned and ruffled his hair.

"Alright kid," I said, crouching down in front of him, "here's the plan. I need you to listen very carefully. The lady that takes care of all the records and booking caterers and stuff like that is Louisa and her and I have a bit of a…rapport. I should be able to charm her and get her away from her computers but I'll need you to do your sneaky thing and get all the files we need."

"How am I gonna do that?" Tim asked nervously, "And what if I get caught?"

"You won't," I said, "and here's why." I quickly laid out my plan for him, which I thought was a pretty good one, and he grinned broadly at me and agreed to it whole-heartedly. He probably would have agreed to anything so long as he got to be helpful. It was an awfully endearing quality and I found myself really growing to like this overly eager little stalker. "Alright, you get what we have to do?" I asked him. He nodded vigorously and I took his hand. He did a little dance like a baby deer and together we walked into the police station. We wound our way around sergeants and desks, my head down so I wouldn't get dragged into any conversations I didn't have time for and Tim's eyes wide and filled with wonder. We finally reached our destination, the back of the building where Louisa had her desk.

"Lucy!" I called jovially, "How could they put such a beautiful young woman all the way in the back? I have goooooooooot to talk to someone about this!" Louisa looked up from her work and grinned broadly at me, blushing slightly. She was a small, plump woman, probably forty or fifty, with a glowing smile and really lovely dark hair that curled around her shoulders. She also had a wonderfully kind heart, which was why I felt a twinge of guilt over what I was about to do, and why it was going to be so easy.

"Hello Dick," she said warmly, flicking her hair back over her shoulder, "What are you doing here on your day off, young man?"

"Bit of business," I replied with a wide smile, leaning over her desk towards her, "couple things I was hoping you could help me with."

"And who is this young man?" Tim pressed himself to the back of my leg and peered up at Louisa, giving her the tiniest wave with the hand that wasn't tightly clasping mine. He was playing the role of little, adorable child perfectly.

"This is my little brother Tim," I said, "he really wanted to see where I work today. I'm his hero…you know." Louisa looked like she might be on cuteness overload. She wrung her hands and bit her lip.

"How precious!" she swooned, "What a sweet little boy! Do you want to be a police officer too, young man?" Tim nodded.

"Just like my big brother!" he said, hugging my leg tightly.

"Yea," I said, smiling down at him and rubbing his hair, "he's my best bud." Louisa looked faint. Tim was really working it. Much as I hated to think ill of the dead, Jason would never have been able to pull off something like this, he had no concept of acting cute. "Anyway," I continued, keeping a gentle hand on Tim's head, "I was wondering if you could help me out with a couple things Lucy."

"What's that?" Louisa asked absentmindedly, smiling down at Tim.

"Well, we had subs a couple weeks ago that were catered for that super boring HR meeting and I enjoyed them so much, I was wondering if you could look up where they came from."

"No problem," Louisa chirped and sat back down at her computer.

She had just finished logging in and pulling up the info when Tim tugged on my arm and said, "Dickie, can I play math games on the computer?" I caught myself before I snorted. Math games! The plan had been for him to ask to play a computer game and I figured he would say like Fortnite or something cool.

"When we get home bud," I replied, "I still need Louisa's help with a few more things."

"Aww," Tim whined, "please, you said planning the party might take a while!" That got Louisa's attention. She stopped what she had been doing and looked up at me.

"What party?" she asked.

"Well," I leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, "I was hoping you could help me plan Ally's birthday party. She's helped me out so much this past year with all the family stuff I've been going through, I wanted to do something really special."

"But," Louisa replied, leaning towards me so she could whisper right in my ear, "her birthday isn't until next month."

"That's why she'll never see it coming," I explained, grinning broadly. The party was the bait and it was an awfully good one. If there was one thing Louisa loved, it was party planning. After all, she had been an event planner before she'd had her kids and been forced to find a more nine-to-five sort of job. Her eyes were glittering and I could see that I had her.

"Can I please play?" Tim asked again, "The nice lady won't mind." Louisa looked down at Tim.

"Ohh, of course you can," she said sweetly, "such a nice young man, come on around here."

"Yeah," Tim cheered and scurried around her desk, pulling himself up into the chair facing the computer as Louisa came over to me.

"Just be careful though," she said to Tim, who was sitting on his legs to reach the keyboard, "there are important files on there."

"Yes ma'am," Tim agreed, "I'll just be on ." Louisa smiled broadly at him.

"Alright Dick," she said, "let's go to the conference room. We won't be overheard there." For the next hour, Louisa and I planned a party that actually sounded like it would be pretty amazing. Ally did deserve a great party, with everything she'd done for me, and it was clear Louisa needed a chance to use her old skills. I ended up having to bring the meeting to a close because she was getting so into it. I hoped I'd given Tim enough time. We walked back to Louisa's desk, still whispering about our plans, and met Tim there, eye's glued to the screen and tongue sticking out of his mouth.

"How's it going?" Louisa asked sweetly.

"Awesome," Tim replied and then leaped up from the chair with an excited whoop. "Look," he said, turning the screen towards us, "I got the high score on long division fishin'!"

"Ohh, that's wonderful dear," Louisa cheered, "I'm glad you had fun. Well, I had better get back to work. Alright Dick, we can talk about this again soon, I hope."

"You know it," I replied, "but next time, I'd like to take you out to dinner. That way, we won't get cut off."

Louisa chuckled, blushing slightly and said, "On your salary, we'd end up at McDonalds!" I put my hand over my heart in mock affront.

"My lady, Burger King at least!" Tim giggled and came back over to my side, taking my hand.

"It was nice meeting you," he said politely.

"You as well," Louisa replied, "have a good day you two!"

"Thanks!" I called, and Tim and I were on our way.

Out in the parking lot, I crouched down in front of him and asked, "Did you get it?" Tim nodded eagerly and held up a flash drive.

"It was good you had her bring up the catering list first, it made it all go real quick! I even got to play some math games!" I snorted.

"Yea, what was that all about? ! You are such a nerd!" I poked him in the chest for emphasis and he turned pink.

"I know," he mumbled, and I got the sense that maybe I had hurt his feelings.

"Sorry," I said quickly, "I was just teasing. It's great you're so smart, it makes you a great detective. Maybe, if I'd played more math games when I was your age, I wouldn't have needed your help to solve this case. Now, how's about we go back to my place and start going through this list."

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I put my face down on my sticky kitchen table with a dramatic moan. "Uuuuuuuuuuugggggggh, there's toooooo many naaaaaaaames! How are we supposed to check out all these places, half the city gave food to the police department!" Tim patted my shoulder awkwardly.

"It's…ok," he said hesitantly, "it won't be that hard to figure this out. We just have to narrow the parameters a little. First, we have to connect to the bat computer. Do you have a vpn to it on your laptop?" I nodded sullenly.

"Bruce set it up but I've never really used it. Here." I shoved my computer in his direction and continued to melt across the table. My apartment was kinda gross right now…all the time… and I probably should have been self-conscious but Tim hadn't said anything and I was too demoralized by the sizeable list I had just pulled up on my laptop to care. With all those different places, it would take us years, maybe decades before we could figure out which person we were looking for. Tim seemed unperturbed by this though, quickly clicking at the computer with his tongue between his teeth.

"You…you kinda have a lot of viruses on this computer," he mentioned.

"Yea," I mumbled, "I'm not very good at clicking on things."

"Ok," he continued, speaking absentmindedly to me as he worked, "first, I'm going to have the bat computer bring up all the employee lists for every company on this list and put those names together into a master list of suspects. Then, I'll have it eliminate any girls, married people or people under the age of twenty."

"Why?" I asked, looking up at him with mild interest.

"Well", Tim explained, blushing a little now that I was looking at him, "statistically, most serial killers are male and, since you have…umm…biological material from the person, it seems especially likely. Also, this person seems pretty good at…well…what he does so he's probably a little bit older, like late twenties early thirties, mature enough to wait for his prey. As for the married part…I mean he keeps them for a while so it doesn't seem likely he has anyone waiting up for him. I could be wrong about that though so if this list doesn't pan out, we'll expand the search parameters a little more. This will at least give us something to work with. Is there anything else you think we should narrow the search by?"

I pursed my lips, getting into the swing of it a bit since I kind of understood what he was talking about. Bruce never explained his reasoning very well and when he did, it was also with just a hint of condescension, like I should have been following all of it in the first place. It was nice to talk to Tim, who acted like it was totally natural that I…a grown man and vigilante who worked with Batman, would have trouble following the musings of a small boy. "Well," I said slowly, "we always kinda figured he probably lived nearby. He probably…also has a criminal record…right?" Tim nodded eagerly.

"Good idea. These guys tend to escalate." I smiled broadly. My ideas were good.

"How short is the list now?" I asked, scooting up close to him so I could peer at the screen.

"We still have…about fifty people."

"Ugggggghhhh," I moaned, pressing my forehead to his shoulder, "that's still too maaaaaaaaaany!" I normally wasn't this whiny and helpless…well, not this helpless at least but I was intrigued by this kid and his skills. I wanted to see what he could do, if he could figure this out on his own. So far, I was impressed.

"Well, hold on," Tim replied placatingly to my pathetic whimpering, "there's still more we can do. I'm going to start a second list where we organize by caterer. I'll narrow the field to only food that was served to the police department after the previous victim was found but before the letter arrived. Also, he probably wanted to make sure the detectives working on his case ate the victim but also maximize the number of people that did so big orders that went to events those detectives would have attended will be prioritized. Now, whatever this guy served to the police department, it had to have been meat based and seasoned pretty heavily so you wouldn't notice what you were eating. Humans are made of red meat, like a cow or a pig, so that eliminates poultry dishes. That leaves us with only…four options." I perked up.

"That's a small number," I said hopefully.

Tim nodded eagerly and said, "Now, all we have to do is cross reference the employee lists from these companies with the list of possible suspects and we get…twelve." I took a breath. Twelve was still kind of big, but not terrible.

"So," I continued, "we visit these twelve."

"Not yet," Tim replied, grinning at me, "now, we cyber stalk."

Tim turned out to be a pretty good hacker, which was entertaining and concerning all at once. We dug through all of our suspects social media feeds, Facebook profiles and reddit activity, their searches and internet history. Tim was…remarkably thorough, to the point that I had to cover his eyes when certain…things came up. There was one guy in particular that stood out after all that. He was a loner, had some…controversial opinions about women and liked really…really violent porn. He was also a cook at Marty's Cajun Stews, a favorite of the police department, and his specialty was gumbo, a different recipe each day, it was advertised. I was really hoping this was the guy, especially because I hated gumbo and always brought lunch when Marty's was catered. Best of all, the suspect's criminal record included the usual medley of robbery and assault charges with one particularly interesting charge, biting a chunk of flesh out of the arm of a sex worker. I was ecstatic, almost bouncing out of my chair.

"We have to go and check it out!" I insisted, "Look, the sun's starting to go down, we have to go now!"

"Yea," Tim agreed eagerly, leaping to his feet, "I brought my costume so I can come with you!" I frowned at him.

"Bruce gave you a costume?" I asked skeptically. Tim shook his head.

"No, I made it myself. Wait here, I'll show you!" He skittered off to the bathroom with his backpack and was back in a moment with…well, I wasn't quite sure what it was but it was awful. He was grinning so broadly though, I couldn't say anything. The only thing I could do was give him my very best fake smile.

"It looks…good kiddo," I praised, looking at him as he turned in front of me. He looked away and pursed his lips.

"I know it's not too great, but it's ok, right? I got a robin outfit because I wanted to look like my hero, like…you." My heart died a little.

"It's awesome," I insisted, striding up to him and hugging him tightly. After a moment, I remembered that not everyone likes to be hugged and I loosened a bit, but he was still clinging to me so I squeezed him tightly and then backed away. "It's a little big though," I said reasonably, "maybe we can get you a smaller set of pajamas."

"It was on sale," Tim explained with a self-conscious shrug. I ruffled his hair and got up.

"Let me change and then we can get going." I turned to go to my room and then paused, thinking. For a second, I had forgotten that this wasn't Jason and that maybe bringing this kid into battle with me wasn't a very good idea. He wasn't trained, had honestly the worst superhero outfit, despite the fact that he had modeled it after mine, and he was not my child. Still though, I never would have solved the case without him. "Ok," I said, "how good are you at following directions?"

"The best!" he yipped, "I got the "following directions" award in third grade…which now that I think about it, is actually super lame." I couldn't help but laugh just a little at that one.

"It is unbelievably lame, but that's ok, I'm going to take you with me anyway. You have to promise to do everything I say. I want you to stay with the wing cycle at all times, go no where near the action and, if things get rough, run and hide. You promise?"

"Yes," Tim agreed, "I know I'd be no good with the fighting anyway."

"Good!" I said, "Alright kiddo, I'll change and then we're rolling!"

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The place looked bad. If ever a serial killer was going to live somewhere, here seemed like a good bet. The apartment buildings on Parker street were mostly dilapidated and filled, I knew, with folks who were down on their luck. The neighborhood was riddled with drugs and gang activity and after dark, even the police weren't keen on visiting. I parked the wing cycle in an alleyway just a block or two down from the apartment building we were looking for, Olympus Towers, and dismounted, pulling off my helmet and running my hands through my hair.

"Alright kid, take these," I said, turning to Tim, who had slid off the bike beside me. I handed him a headset and a gun. "So," I said, getting behind him and showing him how to hold his arms straight, "anyone gets anywhere near you, shoot first, ask questions later. They're stun darts so they won't reeeeeeeally hurt anyone. I'd rather you give a bunch of people bruises and headaches than get hurt anyway. You understand?" Tim nodded eagerly, his mask slipping slightly on his face. I pursed my lips to hold back a laugh and put the headset on his head.

"Ok," I continued, adjusting it slightly so that it would fit better on his head, "this is how you'll monitor my progress." After the ear piece was mostly in his ear, I lowered the arm for the eye piece so that it sat in front of his eye. "Night vision on the first setting, infrared on the second and you can broadcast the feed from my mask right to your eye on the third so that you see everything I see. When I tell you to or, if it seems like I'm in big trouble, call 911, tell them there's a commotion at this address and you think you saw Nightwing. They're not exactly… my biggest fan's just yet so their response time should be pretty good. Does all that make sense?"

"For sure," Tim proclaimed, "I won't let you down!"

"'Course not," I agreed, lightly punching his shoulder. Then, I turned, casting one final glance in his direction as I started to walk away.

He gave me a small wave and pointed at the eye piece saying, "It works great!" I grinned at him. He would be fine and anyway, I had work to do. The guy's name was Jeffins Garban and he lived on the fourth floor of this apartment building. I wasn't sure if he did all the killing and stuff in his actual apartment building but at least maybe there were clues here to where all the nastiness went down. Since it was dark out, it was the perfect time for me to scale a building. As I flipped discretely across fire escapes and shimmied up the walls, my fingers digging into the small spaces between bricks, my eyes flitted occasionally back to where Tim was hiding. My mask had night vision, which I could turn on and off, depending on the situation, and infrared of course, so spotting the kid was pretty easy. There was no one headed in his direction and he was just chilling, watching me work.

"You don't have to keep checking on me," I heard a small voice in my ear say, "I'm fine."

"I know, I know, force of habit," I replied, "alright, am I almost to the fourth floor?"

"One more to go," Tim replied, "you look so cool up there!" The wind whipped my hair around my head, blowing it into my eyes and mouth and making me kind of wish I had taken Alfred's advice and gotten it cut. From this high, the sparkling lights of the city looked almost romantic, especially since the breeze had pushed the usual smog cloud off towards Gotham. I clambered up onto a balcony and stopped, glancing around.

"Alright," I huffed, "does this look like the right one?"

"Hold on," Tim said, let me count. He had looked up the plans for the building as I had been suiting up, which was not something I had even thought of in my excitement. I mentally cursed myself for not being more careful. Bruce had trained me better than that. Anyway, what that meant was that he knew how many levels up and balconies over number 412 was.

"Ok," Tim said after a moment or two, "just two over to the left and that should be the one. I'm too far away to tell with infrared if he's in there though."

"That's ok," I muttered softly as I leapt from the first balcony to the second, "I'll check it out." I made the second leap and cautiously peered through the window. There were no lights on and I couldn't see any heat signatures inside. The window was slightly ajar though, so I gently jimmied it open and slunk inside. "I don't think he's here," I murmured to Tim, "but I'll take a look around and see if I can find any evidence for us. Keep your eyes peeled."

"Ok," Tim agreed over the commlink as I moved through the room to flick on the lights. I was happy there were two sets of eyes seeing what I was seeing because none of it looked particularly conspicuous. The guy was neat as a pin and Alfred would have wept with joy to see this place. There were no evil looking alters or suspicious body parts strewn about either, which was…disheartening.

"See anything?" I whispered.

"No," Tim replied, "but the fact that he's neat is a good sign. He seemed like the organized type of serial killer and a lot of them like things tidy."

"Whatever you say," I muttered, and continued through the living room where I had entered. Bland, gray furniture was set up to face a 65-inch TV and coffee table, covered in glossy, boring looking magazines.

"You know," Tim mused, "this stuff looks way too nice for this apartment. It seems like he would be able to afford a place in a much nicer area than this."

"You're right," I murmured in agreement, "I wonder why he chose this dump." I left the living room and moved into the adjacent kitchen, which was equally bland, but the appliances were nice and the table was mahogany. "Maybe he likes having the extra cash for exotic vacations," I said absently as I opened the freezer, "I bet he's been to Fiji and Barcelona and…" my mouth fell open at the sight. "Tim," I whispered furtively, "are you seeing this?" The freezer was stocked full of Tupperware, all arranged in neat stacks and labeled with women's names. In fact, I noticed the names of a few of the known victims of the Wendigo but, chillingly, plenty that were not.

"This is crazy," Tim cried, "this is the evidence, it has to be!"

"You're right," I agreed, "alright, call the police while I…" The blow to the back of the head nearly knocked me out. In fact, the only reason it didn't was because I ducked right as it was coming down, some small, sixth sense warning me just a little too late for me to fully escape. I saw stars and dropped to the floor, reeling.

"Dick…uhh…Nightwing, Nightwing are you ok, what's wrong!?" I played dead for a moment, assessing the situation. There was a man looming above me, obviously trying to decide if he needed to hit me again. He must have come in while I was snooping, since he definitely had not been here when I had come in. I cursed myself for not listening more carefully. He was probably only about five foot four but he looked strong, arms thick with muscle and head small and squarish. His eyes were furtive and bright, almost black and startlingly empty. It was like looking into the eyes of a reptile. He made his decision, raising his makeshift club, which I could now see was a lamp that was missing the shade, and I quickly kicked his leg out from under him. I was aiming for both but my vision was still blurry and filled with stars so I only managed that but it was enough for me to scoot away from his blow and scramble to my feet.

I faced him, my fists up, as he struggled to stand. "Look man, the police are coming," I said, "let me cuff you and we can just get this all over with." The man looked me over, calculating his options and then darted out the open front door. "Damn it, I shouldn't have given him any options. Tim," I called over the commlink as I scrambled after Jeffins, "Try to keep track of this guy, I don't want him to get away."

"I'll try," Tim agreed, "are you ok?"

"Sort of," I replied, slamming into the wall as vertigo from the head wound overtook me, "I'll be alright." Lucky for me, there were only two sets of stairs down from the fourth floor and I managed to watch the guy disappear down one of them so, despite my staggering, I was still hot on his trail. I pursued him down the stairway and out into the street, where he set off in a dead run towards Tim. I staggered slightly, reaching out helplessly. He was moving more quickly than I had thought should be possible for a man his size. I tried chasing him anyway because Bruce didn't raise no quitter and watched him fade in the distance. My lungs were burning, my head was still spinning and just as I was going cross-eyed, I watched Jeffins drop like a rock. I put on an extra burst of speed, thinking I could catch him if he had tripped, but he didn't seem to be in any hurry to get back up. I finally reached him and put my hands on my knees, bowed over and panting like a dog. I looked down at Jeffins and saw a dart protruding from his neck. Tim emerged from behind a trashcan.

"Did I get 'em?"

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I took a huge chomp of my ice cream and immediately got a brain freeze. I clinched my teeth, squeezing my eyes shut and made a low-pitched sound of pain. "Why did you bite it?" Tim asked, giggling. I shrugged.

"Gotta take risks in life. You enjoying your Dilly Wing?" Tim smiled at me.

"It's good," he said, "it's really named after you?" We were sitting on top of the roof of Dairy Queen, kicking our legs and snacking on our victory ice cream.

"Yep," I said proudly, "I saved the owner's life a while back and now, I have an official ice cream, the Dilly Wing! I come and get it aaaaaaaaaaaaaall the time! It's my favorite. At least someone in this city appreciates me!" After Tim shot the suspect, we had to get out of there before too many witnesses showed up but we watched from a nearby rooftop as the police arrested the guy and went snooping around in his apartment. They found the samples and other evidence in the apartment, trophies I hadn't had time to search out and a key which, we learned from some quality stalking, opened a terrifying shed in the back of the apartment complex that had walls covered in blood. With all that, it seemed pretty obvious this was our man.

I was ecstatic. I wouldn't get the credit of course but at least he was off the streets and I could walk with a little more swagger in my step, despite the fact that Tim had done a large part of the work. I was more than happy to give him the lion's share of the credit and, though I didn't have a ton of money, I could offer him a Dilly Wing as a reward and, obviously, he loved it. Who wouldn't, it was named after me! I clapped him on the shoulder. "Couldn't have done this without you kid," I said, smiling at him broadly, "you were a real hero out there."

"I didn't do much," Tim insisted self-consciously, looking down at his lap, "you did all the big stuff. Is your head ok?"

"It is now," I replied, pressing the ice pack I'd gotten from Dairy Queen to my scalp.

"Hey," Tim said, finishing off the last of his ice cream, "can I show you something?"

"Sure," I agreed, and watched as he clambered up off the edge of the building and went to the middle of the roof. He closed his eyes, breathed in deeply and launched himself into the air, tucking his body backwards into a near perfect flip. He teetered a bit on his landing and stumbled a step but he didn't fall. "Nice!" I cheered, finishing my ice cream as well and bouncing over to him, "That was great!"

"Really," Tim asked hopefully, "the landing still isn't super great but I'm working on it."

"Yea," I insisted, "you just gotta tuck your body a little more so that you get your legs into position in time. How did you learn how to do that?"

"I watched videos of you doing it," he replied excitedly, "I mean, I always wanted to learn how to do your signature quadruple flip but, of course, you're the only one in the world who can do that!"

"Well, I don't have to be," I replied with a smile, "I bet you could do it too, with enough coaching." An idea was bouncing around in my head as I watched his eager face and I said, "Why don't we work on it together?"

"Really," Tim asked hopefully, "Would you really work on it with me?"

"Sure," I agreed, "I'll teach you all my moves. It'd be good for you to have at least some basic self-defense skills if you're gonna be palling around with Bruce and me. Let's meet up sometime soon. I'll get in touch. For now, I guess I better take you home." Tim nodded and trotted after me as I started off towards the fire escape to get down from the roof. Tim was smart, smarter than anyone I'd ever met, except maybe Bruce, and he followed directions really well. He lacked natural athletic ability and was tiny but he was tenacious and willing to practice until he got good at stuff. Most importantly, he had spirit, he had heart and he really loved this kind of work, enough to sacrifice his comfort and time for it. He could make an incredible partner for Batman, an incredible Robin. I thought about mentioning it then but no, he wasn't ready and Bruce wasn't ready either. In fact, I didn't know if Bruce would ever be ready but Tim had been right when he'd come to me, Batman needed a partner and I thought this funny little kid might be exactly the thing. I just had to figure out how to help him help Bruce see that.


	10. Chapter 9

The sound of the washer bumping along was oddly soothing. It almost made me sleepy, which was what I had been hoping for. Perhaps another hour of folding clothes while the laundry ran and I would be ready to go to sleep. I wished it was easier for me to fall asleep in situations like this but when I got upset, I would just lie awake and stare up at the ceiling. It was better to be doing something useful.

Dad had yelled at me and I hated being yelled at. I had been spending so much time working late at Wayne manor and then getting home and working more, I was falling asleep in class and not finishing all of my homework. I mean, it wasn't a big deal, I still had great grades but Mrs. Larina, my science teacher, was concerned. She had always really liked me and taken an interest in my work, giving me extra reading to do for fun on things I enjoyed, and I thrived on the attention. When Mrs. Larina saw that my work was slackening though, she tried to talk to me about it but, of course, I couldn't tell her the truth. I gave her some excuse but, obviously, she hadn't bought it because she had called my dad. Dad had been furious.

It wouldn't have been so bad except Mrs. Larina had called while dad was with some important colleagues and the call had embarrassed him. I tried to tell him that my grades were still fine and nothing was wrong but he hadn't listened. Just before storming off on another business trip, he had made sure I knew there would be consequences if he got another call. I wasn't sure exactly what that meant or what I was going to do. Mrs. Larina probably wasn't going to stop being concerned about me; she was a good teacher and she really cared about me. I would just have to find a way to get more sleep and finish all my work.

I had brought my homework along with me to try and finish while I was at Wayne manor but, of course, I had gotten caught up shifting through data and had never gotten to it. Then, I had missed my bus and ended up sleeping at the manor. Well, this time it was kind of on purpose. The thought of sleeping in an empty house after the upsetting conversation with dad was too much for me.

Just as I was considering finishing a couple problems from my geometry assignment, I heard a loud stomping coming down the hallway. "Alfred, I can't find any of my gray silk shirts, are you washing them, I need one for tomorrow for the…" Mr. Wayne had been staring at his phone as he strode into the laundry room in his boxers, two mismatched socks and a "World's Best Daddy" t-shirt and abruptly stopped talking when he looked up and noticed me. He frowned.

"Sorry," I said quickly, "Alfred's asleep, it's just me. If I'm bugging you though, I can go."

"What are you doing?" Mr. Wayne asked.

"Just getting a hop on the laundry," I replied, "most of your gray silk shirts are over there." I pointed to the hamper by the ironing board. "They're clean but I haven't gotten to ironing them yet. I can do that now for you though."

"No," Mr. Wayne said slowly, still looking utterly confused, "I'll do it." He pulled the first one out of the hamper, turned it over and around like it was from another planet and then put it down on the ironing board. He looked up at the laundry room clock. "Why are you doing laundry at 1 a.m.?"

"I couldn't sleep," I replied sheepishly, "and helping out Alfred is always relaxing."

"Do you help Alfred out a lot?" Mr. Wayne asked. I shrugged.

"I don't know about a lot. When I first started coming over, he had a really hard time keeping up with everything, what with his broken leg and all, so I tried to do as much as possible. Now that he's better, he could probably manage without me but I like helping so he lets me. I figure it'll be a fun surprise for him in the morning when he sees that the laundry is done." Mr. Wayne still looked confused but at least he didn't seem upset.

"But…why are you here and not…at your house?" I pursed my lips, wondering if I should tell the truth or not. I decided to tell half of it.

"I missed the last bus home. Alfred's been letting me sleep here when that happens so I don't have to take a cab back to my place by myself."

"You've slept here before?" I nodded slowly.

"Sorry, I mean…I don't have to…I could go now if you want…I just thought it was ok since Alfred said it was ok…but I'll just get my stuff."

"No," Mr. Wayne said, sounding tired, "if Alfred said it was fine, then it is. I'm just surprised I didn't…notice."

"I usually go to bed after you go out on patrol and I get up to go home before you get up," I explained, "and I try extra hard not to make a mess or bother anyone, especially you. I'm glad you didn't know I was staying, I mean…not that I wanted to keep it from you, I just mean…it's good that I didn't bother you too much and I…"

"Ok, ok kid," Mr. Wayne grumbled, "it's way too late at night for that shit." I nodded mutely and focused intently on the laundry I was folding, feeling stupid. Of course he didn't want to hear me prattle on after he had just gotten back from his Justice League mission. At least, I assumed that was what he had just returned from. I hadn't seen him earlier that evening and I'd been in the cave especially late.

After another two or three minutes of silence, during which I was working especially hard to make sure Mr. Wayne's boxers were folded absolutely perfectly like Alfred did them, I heard Mr. Wayne clear his throat. I looked up. He was standing by the ironing board, iron in his hand, looking vaguely sheepish. "How about you do this and I'll fold clothes. I don't…actually have any idea how to iron something."

"Ohh, that's ok," I said quickly, "you can just go to bed or…do whatever you want. I can have everything ironed and folded and out in front of your bedroom door by tomorrow morning, I promise!" Mr. Wayne actually…grinned at me, at least, he sort of did.

"That's ok," he said, "they're my underwear. I can fold them. What I can't do is iron and I would…appreciate your help, if you know how." I nodded exuberantly and bounced up.

"I've helped Alfred iron your silk shirts before, so I know just how to do it." I bounded over to the ironing board, plugged in the iron and got started on the first shirt. Another few minutes passed and I glanced up at Mr. Wayne a few times, watching him kind of ball up his boxers and dump them into a hamper nearby. The timer dinged on the wash and I stopped my ironing to move the load over to the dryer.

"I don't know why I never have any gray shirts ready when I need them," Mr. Wayne grumbled as I started the dryer.

"Alfred says it's because you refuse to wear any other colors. You have tons of shirts in all different colors and he wouldn't have to do laundry nearly as often if you didn't insist on being monochromatic." For a second, I didn't realize I had said all that out loud, being that I was so tired but once the last words slid out of my mouth, I looked up at Mr. Wayne in horror. To my shock, however, he just snorted.

"Yea, that sounds like Alfred. He would prefer I was less picky, more like Dick. He'll wear anything if it's clean, sometimes even if it's not. Speaking of which, did he stop by the cave this week? I got a message from him days ago saying he needed my help but I couldn't respond."

"Yea," I confirmed, "but he's ok now. We figured it out."

"We?" Mr. Wayne asked, "You helped him?"

"Ohh," I said softly, "yea, I mean, just a little though."

"I bet you solved the whole damn thing," Mr. Wayne grumbled, "he always was a terrible detective." I felt my blood rise a little at that. Dick was my hero after all and he deserved credit for being as awesome as he was.

Before I really thought through what I was saying I snapped, "Dick is a great detective, he's solved loads of cases on his own! He even has an ice cream named after him!" Mr. Wayne actually smirked at that, causing me to look up.

"Yea, the Dilly Wing. He took me to get it one time, said he designed it himself after the owner told him he could have his own dessert. Black ice cream covered in a blue raspberry shell all on a stick. The black doesn't even have a real flavor, it's just called black! What does that mean?" I started to giggle a little bit and put my hand over my mouth to stifle it.

"I thought it tasted like chocolate kinda…" I offered.

"It tasted like burnt rubber," Mr. Wayne snapped. "Only Dick would pick the one flavor of ice cream that isn't even a real flavor. What's wrong with black cherry, I love black cherry!" I couldn't help myself, I burst out laughing. Dick had been so excited to share his creation with me and I had been so wishing I had liked it. Mr. Wayne looked over at me and, to my surprise, he started to laugh too. "I didn't want to hurt his feelings so I told him I liked it," he said through huffs of laughter.

"Me too," I cried, "but you're right, what is the black!?" And then, we were both laughing, so hard I had to sit down and Mr. Wayne almost fell out of his chair.

When we finally stopped, he breathed in deeply, wiped his face on a pair of his boxers and said, "I haven't thought about the Dilly Wing in a long time. I haven't had one since we took Jason a few years ago. Of course, Jason never minced words, he told Dick exactly what he thought of it. I don't think Dick ever fully recovered from that." I grinned broadly.

"Maybe I should have told him the truth but we were both so excited after catching that serial killer, I thought it would be better just to enjoy the moment."

"You went with him to catch a serial killer?" Mr. Wayne asked incredulously, "He took you with him?"

"Well," I said awkwardly, getting up to continue the ironing, "I mean, yea, but I wasn't ever in any danger. I didn't go inside with him or anything, I stayed with the Wing Cycle."

"He took you to the scene?" Mr. Wayne snapped, looking suddenly angry, "That idiot! He knows better than that. I should call him right now…"

"No," I protested, rushing up to Mr. Wayne with my hands up, "no please don't, it really wasn't that big of a deal, I was really far away. I just watched him work on the headset and I called 911. I was totally safe, I never even felt scared." Mr. Wayne still looked pissed but now, at least, a little less so.

"Well, maybe not tonight but he's still getting an earful about this at some point. Help with a case is one thing but he shouldn't be taking you anywhere."

"You did," I said softly, giving him a sideways glance.

"I shouldn't have done that either," Mr. Wayne grunted, looking like his usual stony self again. I gave a sigh and went back to his shirt, our good moment seemingly over. I finished about four of his eleven gray shirts before he spoke again.

"Shouldn't you get some sleep, you have school tomorrow, don't you?"

I shrugged and said in reply, "I'm almost done." I could feel him scrutinizing me as I focused on my work, my eyes downcast.

"What could possibly have you up this late at night anyway? You're like 8, what could you have to worry about?"

In my exhaustion, my temper flared again, not typical for me since I was pretty used to taking crap from people, especially adults, and I snapped, "I'm twelve and school can be hard sometimes!"

"I can't imagine that's particularly true for _you_," Mr. Wayne said, not unkindly exactly, more like curiously. I pursed my lips, feeling as though I had said too much.

"Well, I don't exactly have trouble, I mean, not usually, I just…I sometimes have a hard time finishing everything I have to do."

"Because you keep coming here," Mr. Wayne finished flatly and I winced. I hadn't really intended to tell him so much but I was too tired to come up with a good lie. "Does your father know how often you're here, that you're here tonight?"

"No," I replied softly, "he didn't know about me not finishing my work either but my teacher called and he…wasn't too happy."

"I imagine so," Mr. Wayne mused. He didn't really sound angry, more thoughtful than anything else. I was worried though, and braced myself for the banishment I was sure was coming. "Have you finished all your homework for tomorrow?" Mr. Wayne asked. I shook my head slowly. "Then why don't you put down that iron and finish your work instead."

"Yes sir," I said wearily and walked over to him, grabbing my backpack from where it had been sitting beside the folded laundry. Disheartened, I settled down and pulled out my geometry. Luckily, I didn't have too much I had to finish tonight. I watched Mr. Wayne continue to fold his boxers in a way that would upset Alfred when he saw them the next morning out of the corner of my eye as I started on my first problem. I had stared at it for all of ten seconds when I started to feel Mr. Wayne's eyes on me. I glanced back at him and saw him looking over my shoulder at the problem.

"Did you solve it yet?" he asked.

"N..not yet," I replied. Mr. Wayne slid out of his chair and onto the ground next to me, taking my book from me.

When he saw me gazing at him inquisitively he explained, "I hate folding laundry, I don't know why I offered to do that."

"You weren't really folding it," I muttered under my breath. A small grin tugged at his lips but his eyes were on my problem. While he looked at it, I started undoing the "folding" he had done and redoing it properly.

"Ok," he said finally, "do you understand this?" I shrugged.

"Kind of…I might have slept through the explanation in class a little. I know if I read the book, I can figure it out eventually. Geometry isn't my best math though." I gave him a sheepish shrug.

"Me neither," he replied, "but this isn't too bad." He walked through the problem solving strategy with me until I could do it myself and watched me solve a problem to make sure I got it.

"Awesome," I said when I finished the problem successfully, "thanks!"

He gave me the smallest smile and said, "Alright, now teach me how Alfred likes these folded." I smiled broadly at him and quickly walked him through the tutorial Alfred had given me, Mr. Wayne grumbling the entire time about the pointlessness of folding something he would be unfolding soon anyway.

Once he had mastered it, at least sort of, he said, "Ok, now I'll do this and you do those problems and when we're both done, we can check each other's work." I grinned at him and got started. We worked in companionable silence for about thirty minutes, I stopping a few times to ask him tentative questions about what I was doing and him answering in a gentle, sleepy voice I didn't think I had ever heard from him before. When I finished, true to his word, Mr. Wayne swapped his laundry basket for my homework and while I discreetly tidied up his folds, he chewed the end of my pencil and ran calculations in his head.

"Good job," he said gruffly when he was done, "was this all you had to do tonight?"

I nodded, stifling a yawn, and said, "Yep, I'll finish your shirts now."

"No," Mr. Wayne countered, "leave them, go to bed." I paused, wondering if I should argue, but I was feeling awfully tired and a lot better now that I had successfully finished my geometry.

"Ok," I agreed, and quickly packed up my homework. As I walked out the door, I paused for a second and said "Th…thank you Mr. Wayne…I really appreciate you helping me." Mr. Wayne looked up at me and shrugged.

"You ironed my shirts and folded my boxers, I owed you. I appreciate you helping Alfred as well. I…should be doing more of that. From now on though, I want you to finish your homework before you start playing with _my_ equipment. I don't want your father snooping around wondering why your grades are slipping all of the sudden.

"Yes sir," I said softly, looking down at my feet. At that, Mr. Wayne relented just slightly.

"You can…you can do it here if you want though and I'll help you if you'd like, since you've been helping Alfred."

"Really," I asked hopefully, "thanks so much Mr. Wayne."

He shrugged again and said, "Also, you can just…call me Bruce." I beamed at him and, slinging my backpack over my shoulder, I bounded down the hallway and back to my room, falling asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow.


	11. Chapter 10

Bruce had made regular, pre-scheduled trips to the watchtower as long as it had been around. On the second Saturday of every month, regardless of whether or not he had already been more recently, Bruce docked the Bat Jet in his special spot, which no one else was allowed to use under any circumstances, and stalked the halls of the space station, making everyone uncomfortable and, checked stuff. He liked to make sure the computers were all running the latest software and had appropriate virus protection and he liked to document how much they were being used and by who, or at least that was what he told people. I mean, don't get me wrong, he did do that but he also liked to poke his nose in people's business and snoop around and look for new weaknesses and make a general nuisance of himself so that, even though he was not often involved in the day to day goings on of the Justice League, everyone would remember who really ran the show.

I was well acquainted, of course, with his schedule and used to accompany him every time he went if I could. I loved getting the chance to catch up with everyone and, of course, I never grew tired of seeing my home from so high up. Lately, however, with things being so tense between us, I hadn't joined him, a bummer because, since I was not technically part of the league, he was my primary ride. Wally and I had gone up together a few times over the past year but it was hard to coordinate with him and, subsequently, it had been several months since I had been to the Watchtower. Though things were still not…great between Bruce and I, I decided that, if he'd let me, I wanted to join him and anyway, it gave me an excuse to stop by the cave and see if the kid was still hanging around.

With all that in mind, I motored into the cave at 9 a.m., Saturday morning, when I knew he would probably be leaving soon. He was at his computer when I arrived and, to my delight, Tim was there as well, sitting beside him in a chair much too tall for him, his tiny legs swinging beneath him. They didn't immediately notice when I showed up, engrossed as they were in…math? "But I don't understand," Tim's high, small voice piped up, "I thought negative one plus one would just be zero."

"Well yea, normally," Bruce replied, "but it's because of the absolute value symbol. That's what those lines mean. Here, give me a sec and I'll think about the best way to explain it."

"Ooo," I said, taking advantage of the break in their conversation, "explain it to me too, I never quite got that concept."

"Dick," Tim chirped excitedly, "how's it going? Do you have another case? Can I help with it again?!" I chuckled as he scooted out of his chair, bounding up to me.

"No, no new cases kiddo."

"You want to come with me," Bruce stated flatly, "it would have been good if you had let me know ahead of time."

"Sorry, I figured you had the room," I replied, my voice as measured as I could manage. I could tell he was baiting me, looking for an excuse to argue but I wanted to go to the watchtower more than I wanted a shouting match so I bit my tongue. Bruce stared at me for a moment, his expression inscrutable.

"You may come if you wish. I have to get changed first though. I was…delayed."

"Sorry," Tim said abashedly, "I didn't mean to bug you."

"It's…ok," Bruce conceded, "I wasn't going to leave until ten anyway. I'll be back in a few minutes."

"So," I said, crouching down to Tim's level after Bruce left, "how's it going?"

"Great," he replied excitedly, "hey, I have something for you!" He scurried over to where his backpack was and dropped to his knees, digging through it. "I didn't know when the next time I was gonna see you would be so I've been carrying it around but I made you…this!" He pulled a small book out from the confines of the backpack and handed it to me. Inside were all the clippings and news stories about the Wendigo, everything that had ever been written about him, as far as I could tell, and it was quite a lot. "Now you have everything so you can tell people about how you caught him," Tim said proudly, "do you like it?" I was touched, which isn't necessarily saying anything since I am pretty easily touched but this was awfully sweet.

"I love it," I exclaimed, "It's amazing!" I opened my arms to hug him and he wiggled into my embrace excitedly.

"I'm so glad you like it," he cried, "I made one for me too. I had to commemorate the chance I got to solve a real case with the real Nightwing!"

"Well," I replied, "I'm glad I now have something to commemorate the chance I got to solve a real case with the real Tim Drake. One day, when you're a super famous, genius detective, this is going to be worth a ton of money and I'm going to be showing it to people and telling them about you." Tim giggled.

"Sure," he replied. At that moment, Bruce returned, wearing his most menacing looking Batsuit. I mean, they're all pretty menacing but this one had shoulder hooks, not practical for actual crime fighting but very useful if you want to assert your dominance over new heroes. I probably would have teased him about it if we were on better terms.

"Were you planning on going as a civilian?" he asked pointedly, eyes fixed on my leather jacket and baggy jeans.

"No," I replied, and wiggled out of my clothes, revealing my Nightwing suit underneath. I put my mask on my face, smoothed my hair and said, "Ready to go."

"Ooo!" Tim exclaimed suddenly and we both turned to him. He blushed a little and said in a small voice, "I was wondering if maybe you guys could do me a favor."

"What is it?" I asked.

"Could you maybe download some satellite footage for me…I mean, would that be ok? I was having a hard time getting it on the bat computer but Alfred told me that's 'cause the satellites don't always interface real well but maybe on the Watchtower…"

"I don't have time," Batman replied gruffly.

"Well I do," I chirped, happy to help, "write me down what you want and I'll…wait a sec, why don't you come with us?" Tim looked like he might faint. Batman glared at me.

"He can't come."

"Why not?" I asked with a shrug, "You don't have time to get the data he wants and, let's be honest, I don't really know how. Anyway, he already knows our secret identities, there aren't really any secrets bigger than that he could find out."

"No," Batman growled, "come on, we don't have time for this. If you want Dick to get you that data Tim, go quickly and write down your instructions. Don't get your hopes up though, he's terrible with computers." Tim had already let the idea slip and was eagerly scurrying off but I was unperturbed, pointedly ignoring Batman's stab at my technological skills. I could see an opportunity in this that I was at loathe to pass up.

"I suppose you're right," I amended lightly, adjusting the cuff of my glove. "After all, bringing him along would probably really piss Clark off." Batman paused and I fought back a smile. I could always count on pettiness to win out where Batman was concerned, even if nothing else did. Tim returned after a moment or two with the piece of paper.

"I wrote out all the instructions," he said, "but they might not be complete. I wrote down my phone number too though so, maybe you can call if you want to…"

"He won't need it," Batman said suddenly, cutting him off. Tim looked between the two of us, confused. "Go get that ridiculous costume of yours," the Dark Knight continued, "you're coming along." Tim gave a squeal of excitement and leapt about a foot in the air.

"Really, can I really come?"

"Not if you don't hurry," Batman growled, "get to it!" I smirked, watching him skitter off. Batman gave me a sidelong glance, considering me. I wondered if he suspected what I was up to. If he did, he didn't say anything. Instead, he started making his way towards the Bat Jet and, after a moment, I followed.

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The sheer force of Batman's ill-will and my concerted attempts not to argue with him kept Tim from making a sound through-out our entire journey but he was literally shaking with excitement. I thought he might end up vibrating right through the jet like Wally but thankfully, we arrived at the watchtower before that could happen. As soon as we docked, Batman was surging away like a dark cloud. "You wanted him here, he's your responsibility," the Dark Knight growled over his shoulder as Tim and I disembarked.

"Okay," I called after him and added in a grumble under my breath, "Asshole." Tim giggled.

"You shouldn't say that word."

"Pretty sure you are not the word police," I replied, poking his nose, "alright, where do we need to go?"

"I just need a computer that can link up with the satellites," Tim said.

"Well," I announced, scooping him up and swinging him up onto my shoulders, "I know a room with some computers in it. Let's go see if any of those'll work." Tim shrieked in delight and clung to me as we bounced down the corridors, talking a mile a minute. He had a million questions about everyone and everything that he saw and I knew answers to maybe three of them. Part of the problem was that he was talking so fast, I didn't quite understand most of them but it didn't seem to matter. He was too excited to care much about anything, I could tell. It had been this way when I had first come to the watchtower, Jason as well, so it was only fitting Tim had the same over-the-top reaction.

We reached the computer lab after only a few minutes and I set Tim down. "Alright squirt," I said, "Will this do?"

"Let me try," Tim replied eagerly, and sat down in front of the first computer he could. There were a few other people in the room, some of whom I recognized and others I didn't but, as Tim got to work, I made the rounds, chatting with everyone and introducing myself to people I didn't know. Unlike Bruce, I loved making new friends. Tim had been at it for about a half-hour, I engrossed in conversation with Huntress, when Wally suddenly came rushing up to me.

"Wing," he cried, whisking me away so fast I didn't have time to even say goodbye, "Wing, it'ssogoodyou'rehearthisisrealimportantwehaveto…"

"Would you slow down?" I said with a laugh, lifting my hand to stop him, "What are you going on about? Hello to you too, by the way."

"Yea, yea, hi, haven't seen you in a while, how've you been?" He gave me a tight hug while he spoke, still going too fast but at least I could understand him now.

"I've been good," I replied with a laugh, "What's going on anyway?"

"It's Garth," Wally said, grabbing my arms and staring seriously into my eyes. I frowned at him.

"What about him, is he ok?"

"No," Wally replied softly. I gave him an alarmed look.

"What's wrong with him?" I asked, feeling worry rise in my chest. Wally gave a deep sigh, looked down dramatically and then raised his eyes slowly to meet mine.

"He's about to ask out Jayna."

"No!" I shrieked, so loud everyone in the computer lab turned to look at me. "No," I said again in a softer voice, "No way, he's been talking about doing that for years."

"I know," Wally squealed, "but it's happening today, right now. I heard it from Donna, who heard it from Gar, who heard it from…well, never mind it doesn't matter, it's happening, down in the cafeteria, we have to go!"

"Excuse me," a voice beside me said, and I looked down to see a young hero I didn't recognize, "I was wondering if one of you could show me where the," he looked down at his hand "…Delta control room is." Wally was aghast.

"Sorry, we can't help you right this second, we have something really important going on."

"I can help," a small voice pipped up, and we all turned to see Tim standing nearby, "I mean, if it's ok with you, Nightwing."

"Sure, sure," I replied, "listen, I'll be right back, I promise."

"Ok," Tim agreed, nodding happily as Wally whisked me away.

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Of course it didn't pan out. We had had so many false alarms over the years, too many to count, and Garth remained unattached. I gave Wally a lot of grief over it. "To my credit," Wally insisted as we sat together in the cafeteria, people watching, "he got really close this time."

"They talked about the weather," I grumbled, shoveling macaroni and cheese into my mouth.

"But they talked," Wally said, "and next time, maybe they'll talk a little more and then…" He made a rude gesture with his hand and I snorted into my mac. We'd been discussing the whole affair for a while now, and speculating whether Garth was especially interested in Jayna for her ability to change into sea animals or the fact that she was an alien when I happened to glance up at the clock on the wall above us.

I gave a start and yelped "We've been here for two hours?!."

"Sure," Wally said with a shrug, stealing a bit of my mac, "you got somewhere to be?"

"Yes," I cried, "well, sort of, damn it, sorry, I gotta go, we can catch up later."

"Whatever," Wally replied, already finishing off my discarded mac, "See you around boy wonder." I was already out the door, rushing down the hall as I practiced my apology to Tim. I was horrified, however, to find the computer lab very Tim free when I reached it. I grabbed fistfuls of my hair, pulling on it like I always did when I was stressed. Batman was going to kill me. This kid was my responsibility and I'd abandoned him to watch a friend make a fool out of himself. This was bad. He could be anywhere, the watchtower was huge! He was probably lost and scared. What if someone had attacked him!

I racked my brains, trying to come up with a plan that didn't involve Batman when I remembered something. That young hero, the one I didn't recognize, he had asked for help finding…the delta control room. Yea, that was it. And Tim had offered to help? Why had Tim offered to help, he'd never been here before? There wasn't time to ponder it though, it was getting late and Batman would be looking to go home soon. I darted down the halls, leaping lithely around people as I went, all the way to the delta control room. I rushed inside and almost cried when I saw it was empty. What was I gonna do? 'Maybe he went back to the hanger,' I thought. Grasping that hope, I bounded out the door and into the hallway, running headlong into Batman and almost knocking him over.

"Watch where you're going!" the Dark Knight snapped, "I've been looking everywhere for you! It's time to go." He glanced around. "Where's Tim?"

"Hah, hah," I chuckled weakly, rubbing the back of my neck, "sooooo…funny story." Batman's scowl deepened and, just then, Tim rounded the corner, chattering happily with the Atom. "He's right here," I said elatedly, rushing over to Tim, "see, he's right here, just where I knew he'd be."

"Hiya," Tim cried brightly, "is it time to go?"

"This young man," Atom said happily, clapping Tim on the shoulder, "is quite something. Did you know he's been helping people find their way around? You must have really grilled him on his watchtower blueprints. He tells me it's his first time here!"

"Yes," Batman said in a slow, bewildered voice.

"Well," the Atom continued, "I hope to see you again soon!" He gave Tim a final hair ruffle and then walked up to Batman, leaning towards him as he murmured, "You should keep this one around, he's sharp. I hope that's not the costume you all have settled on though." I smirked, half in relief, half in amusement, down at Tim's ridiculous, terrible costume as he beamed up at me. Batman scrutinized us for a moment and then, without another word, started stalking towards the hanger.

"Did you get everything you needed?" I asked as Tim and I trotted along behind Batman.

"Yep," Tim replied, "it was great! I had such an awesome time, thanks for bringing me Batman!" Batman only grunted in reply.

"Sorry I ditched you for so long," I whispered to Tim, leaning in so Batman wouldn't hear.

"It's ok," Tim replied, "I had fun and I met a bunch of new people!"

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Tim fell asleep on the ride back, not surprising if Alfred was right about the hours he was keeping. I probably slept through most of my Bat Jet rides when I was his age. My mind was a million miles away as we were gliding through space on our way home, so much so it almost didn't register when I heard Batman chuckle. I looked over at him in surprise. "What?" I asked.

"He was showing people around," he replied with a snort. For a second, I didn't know what he meant and then it hit me and, despite myself, I started laughing too.

"Yea," I agreed, "What a weird kid!"

"He had the schematics memorized, Atom said. I don't even have the schematics memorized," Batman added, "they add a new damn room every other week, it seems. It's hard to keep up."

"Don't you pay for those rooms?" I asked skeptically.

"Most of them," Batman grumbled, "they still don't bother to tell me when and where they're going to add them."

"I guess next time, you should ask Tim," I said, and we both laughed. Tim stirred a little in the seat behind us but he didn't wake up and silence lapsed for a few minutes. Batman glanced over at me.

"You…haven't joined me on one of these trips in a while," he commented lightly.

"Yea," I replied, feeling a little awkward, "guess I haven't."

"It was…good that you came. I mean…they all like seeing you, certainly more than they like seeing me and it's good to have a copilot when I fly the jet." I glanced at him.

"Yea," I agreed, "I guess, if it's alright with you, I'll come next time too." Batman nodded swiftly.

"That…that would be good." Silence dropped between us again, almost like a curtain, separating us from one another, and stayed there until I could see the sparkling lights of Gotham below us. It was then that I heard Batman clear his throat. "If you want to…I mean…Alfred hoped you'd stay for dinner."

I considered his offer for a moment, letting it roll around in my head like a marble. I hadn't had dinner at the manor for ages. I didn't even know if I wanted to and, Batman probably wouldn't be able to help picking a fight with me at some point, trying to push me away again. I would probably end up doing what I had been doing all day, ignoring his barbs and swallowing my pride but, when I looked at Batman, eyes fixed on the windshield and very pointedly not on me, I made my choice. "I'd like that," I agreed finally, "I've missed Alfred."

"He's missed you too," Batman said softly, as we slowly dipped through the atmosphere and back down into Gotham.


	12. Chapter 11

"Alright Timmers, just arch your back a little more and I think you'll have it." Tim nodded, looking serious, and took a deep breath, widening his stance like I'd told him to before. I had promised ages ago that I would help him learn how to do my quadruple flip and it had been weighing on my mind that I hadn't made good on that promise. Of course, he had a lot of work to do before he was ready to do that particular flip, limbering exercises to ensure he had the flexibility, balance training and smaller flips to get his form correct, among other things, but he seemed willing to put in the work and he was a lot of fun to work with. I found that, if I just kept encouraging him, he would just keep working and not get discouraged. It was an endearing trait and one that made him rewarding to coach.

We were in Blϋdhaven, at the "abandoned" gym where I liked to practice my Nightwing moves. Once upon a time when I had moved into the neighborhood, Bruce had bought it for me and I maintained the abandoned façade so that I could have it to myself. It wasn't as good as the batcave but it worked well for the most part. Since I hadn't been visiting the Batcave lately, it was getting a lot more use.

Tim planted his feet firmly and crouched before hurling himself into the air. He twisted and almost completed it but I could tell within the first millisecond that he wasn't going to make it and, sure enough, he landed heavily on his side. "You ok," I asked, crouching next to him. Tim nodded.

"Yea," he grunted, "what did I do wrong that time?"

"Didn't start twisting fast enough," I replied, giving him a hand up. "'S ok though, easy mistake to make. You'll get it next time. Lets take a break." Tim looked for a moment like he might argue but found he didn't have the energy. He just nodded and collapsed back onto the mat. I laughed and sat down next to him.

"Maybe I'll just take a nap here," the boy said, putting his hands behind his head and closing his eyes, "this stuff really takes a lot out of you. How do you work out like this all the time?"

"You get used to it," I replied. "'Course, it helped I've been doing it since I was born. They say I flipped right out of the womb."

"Gross," Tim snorted and then stretched and winced. I felt a twinge of guilt. In addition to helping him learn how to flip, I had been drilling him on some combat stuff too. He was doing well actually, better than I thought he would, but I had gotten a few hits in I was certain he would be feeling later.

"You know," I said as his breathing slowed like he was getting ready to actually take that nap, "if I was Batman, I'd be cracking the whip right now to get you off your lazy ass and back to work." Tim gave me a wry look.

"Good thing you second rate heroes don't work as hard then, huh?" I gave a yelp of indignation and dove at him but he rolled out of my way and scrambled to his feet, laughing as I pursued him.

"Second rate!" I roared in mock rage, "I liked you better when you worshiped me you little beast!" I leapt and grabbed him around the middle, dragging him back down onto the mat and tickling him. He squealed loudly and struggled but he was far too tiny and tired to get away and I had him at my mercy. I tossed him high in the air and, for a moment, as he was suspended above me, I was transported back five years and the boy I was playing with was a different one. When he landed in my arms, I put him down beside me, my smile faltering, and he looked up at me, confused.

"What's wrong?" he asked, "Did I kick you too hard?" I gave him a weak smirk.

"No, I'm fine, I just…you reminded me of Jason for a second there." We were quiet for a few minutes, both of us panting, until Tim broke the silence in a small, tentative voice.

"Dick…what was…what was Jason like?" I looked over at him, surprised by his question. "I mean…I've read everything I ever could find about him, like I did with you, so I know some stuff but I never got to…meet him and I always…wanted to." I nodded slowly, reaching out to grab my water bottle and take a slow drink as I thought about what to say, or even if I should say anything.

When I finished swallowing, I fixed my eyes to the wall behind his head and said softly, "Jason…was a firecracker. He never pulled back on who he was, it was always full throttle with him. It drove everyone nuts sometimes but, honestly, it was one of his best qualities. He always told you what he was thinking and he called Bruce out on everything. That was damn refreshing because even I'm too scared of him to do that. He had a hell of a temper though and he always thought he was right, even if you proved him wrong. He had a really hard time saying sorry because of that. That was what…most people saw anyway." I pursed my lips, feeling my chest tighten a little. I wanted to stop, I didn't want to say anymore so I lapsed into silence but Tim pressed again.

"What do you remember most about him?" he asked in a small, innocent voice. I looked down at him, feeling a flash of anger that he was pressing when I so obviously didn't want to talk about it but, almost unbidden, a memory came bubbling to the surface, a memory that forced a laugh.

"He loved to eat," I said, "and I mean anything, even unnatural shit like pistachio ice cream and…chili-dogs, but like the really gross ones they sell down by the docks." Tim wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"He ate those?" he asked, "I didn't think anyone ate those."

"Yea," I laughed, "this one summer, we went down to the carnival, Bruce, Jay, Alfred and I, and he insisted we all get one. He was the only one who managed to finish his and keep it all down. We were all throwing up with food poisoning for the rest of the day and into the night but Jay had an insane stomach and he was totally fine." Tim laughed loudly along with me. "And, this other time," I continued, eagerly now as so many good memories started to wash over me, "while he was on patrol with Bruce, they ran into Crazy Quilt and, of course Jay figured he could take him, he always figured that, the arrogant bastard, and ended up getting himself, Bruce and the batmobile died hot pink and yellow for a week! Would not come out, no matter what we did. It got under their costumes so just…everything was pink and yellow, and I mean eeeeeeeeeeverything!"

I was laughing so hard now, I could barely breath. "And Jay…he tried putting on cover-up…and it worked so well…he forgot he had it on so…when he had a date later that week, he brought her over to the manor and they started…making out in the hot tub and…all the cover up washed off! She left screaming…thought he had some kind of horrible disease! I still…I still have pictures!" I had to take a break after that; I couldn't talk anymore, I was so out of breath from laughing. We laughed and panted and I grinned more broadly than I had in a long time, just thinking about all those ridiculous memories. Tim let me have a few minutes with them before he spoke again, this time in a confident, amused voice. "And what was your favorite thing about him?" I paused, still breathing heavily, but I didn't have to think very hard to answer that one.

"He loved with his whole heart. It took him a long time to get to a point where he would open up but, when he did, he loved you so much and he'd do…anything for you. Not many people knew that side of him, because you had to get past his prickly exterior but underneath that, he was one of the kindest people I ever knew. I think…growing up with nothing, knowing what it was like to have nothing, to be nothing, it really made him…compassionate, more so than Bruce or I because we always had everything." Tears were starting to blur in front of my eyes and I knew I should stop talking but I just couldn't. It was like the words had taken me over.

"Bruce and I, we knew…even after our parents died…we had…their love to hold onto…I mean…we always knew we were loved but Jason…nobody ever loved him and that was all…all he ever wanted. It was…what got him killed…ultimately…I mean…everyone always says it was because he couldn't…follow orders…or that he was arrogant but it wasn't that…not really…he really just wanted to be…loved…he wanted his mom to…love him." I was crying now, really crying, like I hadn't since Jason died, with tears gushing from my eyes and cascading down my cheeks like waterfalls. "But we loved him so much…" I whimpered through my tears "…Bruce and Alfred and I…we loved him so…so much and I don't know…if he ever knew. I'm so scared that…before he died…in his last moments…he didn't realize it because we weren't…there for him. I wasn't…there for him."

I tried to stop crying. Tim hadn't exactly signed up to watch me blubber about Jason but I just couldn't shut it down. I had bottled up all these feelings for so long, all this guilt and grief, never letting it get to me, never letting it out, that I just couldn't hold it in any longer. I was shocked, then, when I felt a small hand close around mine. I looked up, through my tears, to see Tim holding my hand tightly, his eyes fixed on my face. "I'm sure he knew," Tim said softly, "I'm sure he knew you loved him. I mean…I guess I don't know you all that well yet but I do know that…if you loved me…I'd never…ever forget it."

I choked and then shocked him by grabbing him and holding him to my chest. I wrapped my arms as tightly around him as I could without squeezing him to death and pressed my face into his shoulder. I was still crying but somehow, holding him, it felt better. "I'm sorry," I whimpered into Tim's neck.

He put his little arms as far around me as he could and said softly, "it's ok. You should just cry about it for a little while. A lot of times, it feels better to cry about things. I know it helped with my mom." I choked again. This was so ridiculous, him comforting me. He was just so tiny but it was so soothing to hold him. It was like holding Jason again and for a few minutes, I could almost forget my little brother was dead. More than that though, it felt unbelievably good to remember him. I realized that, over the past year, I had been trying to forget him because it just…hurt too much to remember. But, that wasn't right. I had to remember him, he deserved to be remembered. I had loved him with all my heart, and he had loved me too and that was worth remembering.

I rocked Tim slowly, like I was consoling him and not the other way around, until I had cried myself out. I'd made a mess of his shoulder and his neck and even his hair but he didn't seem to care. I put him down in front of me and wiped my nose on my sleeve. "Sorry about that," I choked, giving him a little smile, "bit more than you bargained for when I invited you up here to practice some moves." Tim shrugged.

"You helped me get through my mom's death," he said, "or researching you did anyway. Sometimes, when it was late at night and I couldn't sleep, I would pretend you were there with me, that you were my…friend and you'd say things to make me feel better." He blushed a little, looking down at the mat. "Kinda dorky, I know, but it helped." I took his face in one hand, lifting it so that his eyes were looking into mine.

"You are my friend," I said, "one of my best friends probably. Thanks…for letting me talk about Jason. It helped…a lot." Tim grinned broadly.

"Of course," he said, "I love hearing about him. I wish I could have met him."

"No you don't," I chuckled, getting to my feet and giving him a hand up, "he would have been a jerk to you. Although…he probably would have gotten off on the whole hero worship thing so I guess you might have won him over that way. Well, I don't much feel like training anymore. What do you say we go back to my place and I get us some dinner and maybe…maybe we can talk a little more about Jason."

"That sounds great," Tim chirped, "You could show me those pictures you talked about." I scooped him up and swung him onto my shoulders.

"Yes," I agreed with a laugh, "those and many more. I have soooooooo many embarrassing pics of him and Bruce and even…a few of Alfred. You have to promise not to tell him I showed you though."

"I promise," Tim agreed eagerly and for the first time in a year, my heart felt a little lighter.


	13. Chapter 12

The pieces were coming together, but not in any kind of pattern I understood. So far, they seemed totally random, growing more confusing with each I uncovered. When Bruce and Dick had taken me to the watchtower, I had been hoping to get satellite images of Sesriem. I had failed to dig up any reason online for why my dad wanted to go there in particular, but I had uncovered rumors online that there had been some kind of seismic event there recently and I thought maybe the satellite images could let me know. It was a long shot but I didn't know what else to do. What I found was startling, to say the least.

I got images of Sesriem from just before dad had arrived and found what I expected, lots and lots of desert all around it, especially towards the national park. As I scrolled through the images over time, however, a strange picture emerged. My dad had stayed in Sesriem for about four days and then left. Everything in the satellite images was normal during that time. The day after my dad left though, the landscape had a dramatic shift. About forty miles outside of Sesriem, far into the desert, there was a crater that had definitely not been there before. The land, which had previously been wind-blasted smooth, was craggy and full of huge fissures and cliffs that looked, at least from the images, to be at least twenty feet high. Whatever had happened there had been intense and the carnage resembled that of an earthquake.

What was strange, however, was that there was no history of seismic activity in that area prior to the event, not even little tremors. Earthquakes in new areas were not unheard of but they certainly were not that common and not in the pattern that I was seeing in Namibia. The effects of this event looked like they radiated out in an almost spiral-like pattern from some epicenter directly in the middle. That was where the biggest fissures were though, so it was hard to tell if there was anything there that might have caused the earthquake. I racked my brain and the internet, searching for answers, but could find none. I looked for evidence of spiral earthquakes like this one for hours but found nothing.

On the other side of things, I was still analyzing Jeremy's clothes. They yielded results that were a bit more concrete. I found, from my particulate analysis, a series of clues that I was sure were pointing me to the Gotham docks. The only problem was I needed to know the specific area of the docks where Jeremy had been. That would require me to go and take samples. I was unsure, however, how I was going to make that happen. The docks were a huge area to cover and were not the safest part of town. I would have to make my way along them slowly, taking soil samples, which would take forever and would probably be best to do at night, when there wouldn't be people around to question what I was up to. I could probably do it on foot alone if I had to, but it was going to be a pretty dangerous journey.

I posed this problem to Bruce one evening after I finished my homework. The fact that he had started to help me had quite a few positive effects. I was now able to finish it a lot more quickly, I learned a lot more, and then had more time to work on my case and was sleeping less in class. I also just liked working with him. I liked the attention and the fact that it seemed like, each time we worked together, he warmed up to me a little more. That evening he seemed especially pleased as he finished a paper I wrote for science which was, ironically, about bats.

"Just a few grammatical errors," he grunted as he leaned back in his chair and returned my paper to me, "I think you did an adequate job otherwise."

"Thanks for reading it," I chirped, taking it back from him. We were quiet for a few minutes as he contemplated his computer screen and I surveyed the changes he had made to my paper. "Umm…Bruce," I said slowly, his first name still awkward on my lips, "you're going to patrol the docks tonight, right?"

"Mmhmm," Bruce affirmed absently.

"Then, I was wondering if I could ask you a favor."

"I don't really have time to look at any more of your homework before I go out on patrol," he mumbled, eyes fixed on the computer screen, "but, if you leave it for me, I can check it tonight when I get back."

"Ohh no," I replied, "it's not that. I was actually wondering if you could get some soil samples for me…you know…while you were out on patrol tonight." Bruce finally looked away from the screen, his eyes meeting mine.

"Soil samples from where?" he asked.

"The docks," I replied, "'cause, you know, you've been helping me analyze Jeremy's clothes and it seems like, from everything that we've done, that he was somewhere on the docks the night he died. I was hoping to pinpoint where though, so I thought, if I got some soil samples from different spots, maybe I could match what was in them to what I found on the clothes." Bruce considered me for a moment and then got up, striding off towards where he kept the batsuits. After a moment of sitting in silence, I got up to go after him, wondering if maybe he hadn't heard my question.

"Umm…Bruce."

"Get your costume," he said, throwing the words over his shoulder without looking at me, "you can just come with me." I knew better than to question my good fortune so, without another word, I went rushing over to my backpack where my costume was. I had wiggled into it and was back in about five minutes, which apparently wasn't nearly fast enough because he was glaring at me when I returned.

"I thought you wanted to come," he snapped.

"Sorry," I apologized, "my boots take a long time to lace." In reply, he simply grunted and opened the car door so I could scramble in. I slid into the seat beside him and buckled in, taking care to be very quiet and not smile too much, as that seemed to annoy him. We took a silent ride down to the docks, I thumbing through my binder (I was on my second one now) where I had a map of all the places I planned to sample. He stopped the car at the east side, parking it in an alleyway just barely big enough to fit it, and turned to me, considering me quietly.

"What is your plan?" he asked. I showed him my map and explained what soil samples I wanted and he gave a small grunt. Then, he reached over to a compartment on the batmobile and took two things out, handing them to me. "Here," he grumbled, "this is a communicator. Give me a call when you want to be picked up. If you run into any trouble, the red button is for emergencies. Press it and I'll come to you. Press the blue button on the side every fifteen minutes as a check in. If you don't, I'm going to assume you're in trouble and I'll follow the tracker in it to come get you. Also, take this." He indicated a stun gun he had just handed me. "Do you think you can manage to use it without hurting yourself?" I nodded eagerly.

"Just point this end at the criminal and shoot," I exclaimed.

Batman's mouth quirked up a bit like he was fighting off a smile and he grumbled, "Be indiscriminate. Anyone gets too close, even if you don't think they're a threat, shoot them and call me." I nodded happily.

"Will do!" I clambered out of the car and started on my way as he disappeared like a specter into the night. I was careful to make sure I wasn't noticed by anyone, not that there were too many people around anyway, as I made my way along the docks over the next three hours, meticulously collecting my samples. In this way, I covered about half the area I needed to, enjoying the chance to stretch my legs and think and listen to the soothing sound of the waves slapping quietly against the rocks. It was a nice, bright night, a full moon, so it was easy to see where I was going, even in the dim lights of the dock, and the air was cool and relaxing. I was actually having a really nice time, at least until I was spotted.

I was stooping to collect a sample when a sense of Deja-vu washed over me. I looked around and was pretty sure I recognized the place I was in. It was where Jeremy had shot his final video, or at least, it could be. I couldn't be sure, since a lot of the places in the docks probably looked like this one, but excitedly, I collected my sample and decided to poke around a little more and see if maybe some evidence had been left behind. I was so engrossed in what I was doing, I didn't notice the man that came up behind me. I did notice, however, when he grabbed me around the middle, clamping his hand over my mouth and cutting off my squeal of fear.

I tried to wiggle out of his grasp, but his wiry arms held me fast. I just managed to press the panic button on my communicator before the man squeezed me so tight, I couldn't hold onto anything I was carrying, the communicator, stun gun and samples slipping from my hands. His breath in my face reeked of alcohol and cigarettes and his skin was clammy and cold. I didn't know what he wanted with me, but I was sure it wasn't good. He started to haul me off, away from the docks and towards the shadows of a nearby alley. I forced myself to stop panicking for a moment so that I could think. If he had a vehicle or something in the alley, he could have me away from here before Batman arrived to help. I had to do something.

I thought back to the lessons Dick had been giving me. What was I supposed to do if I was captured like this? It was like a lightbulb went off in my brain and, just before we reached the alley, I threw my head back as hard as I could, striking the man in his throat. Part of my head struck against his chin and pain lanced through my skull but the man choked and I took the opening that gave me to wiggle out of his loosening grasp. I darted away, back towards the docks where I had dropped my communicator. Batman would be here soon, he had to be. The man was on me after a moment though, reaching out to grab the back of my costume. I spun around before he had time to get a good grip on me and kicked him as hard as I could in the chest. He staggered back and I decided I was tired of being the victim in this exchange. I needed to give Batman time to reach me and right now, going on the offensive seemed like my best option.

Though I was terrified, I leapt on the man before he could fully regain his footing and swept his legs out from under him. Then, I kicked him as hard as I could in the head. I could tell he was dazed but I had failed to knock him out and he grabbed my ankle, dragging me to the ground beside him. I rolled from his grasp as he scrambled to his feet, reaching for me, and performed a move Dick had been drilling into me the past two times we had gotten together. The man leapt on top of me and I brought my legs up as high as I could, kicking him hard in the chest and sending him flying over my head. He landed hard with a grunt as I rolled back up to my feet and adopted a fighting stance. He came at me again and I punched him in the nose. He howled and staggered back and I kicked him again, this time in the stomach. He crumpled and, before I could do anything else, Batman landed heavily on top of him.

Two hundred pounds of muscle plus whatever that armor weighs was finally enough to knock the unlucky fellow out and I dropped to my knees in relief and exhaustion. "Thanks," I said wearily.

"Why didn't you stun him?" Batman snapped, "It was stupid and reckless to go looking for a fight!"

"I didn't!" I cried indignantly, "He surprised me! He was dragging me off to that alleyway, I had to do something!"

Batman just glared at me coldly and then growled, "Come on, I'm taking you home." I gave a huff and wrapped my arms around myself, feeling sore and irritated. I had gotten myself into a dumb situation, paying to much attention to what I was doing and not enough on my surroundings, but it really wasn't my fault I had to fight the guy, I hadn't wanted to! I would much rather have just shot him!

Batman followed close behind me as I went to pick up my stuff. He led me to the Batmobile in silence and I got in, feeling a sinking feeling in my heart as we drove back to my house. I had been so excited to go out with him but, after this, of course he'd never take me again. This might even be the end of the tentative rapport we had been cultivating.

We reached my house after only a few minutes and I collected my stuff. Just as I was getting out of the car, he suddenly spoke, softly and almost…apologetically. "You can leave the soil samples with me if you'd like. I can get started on the analysis tonight and you can finish it tomorrow."

I was so shocked, I didn't quite know what to say so I just replied, "Cool, umm…thanks a lot." I got the samples out of my backpack, carefully arranging them in a smaller bag I had with me and handing them to him.

"You handled yourself well today," he grunted as he took the bag from me, "you didn't panic and you used your head. I didn't…realize you could fight." I shrugged.

"Nightwing's been showing me some stuff," I explained, "says it's good to know a few self-defense moves. I never really thought I'd use them though. I don't think I'd really want to again, it was kind of…scary and…painful. I don't know how you go and fight people like that every night." I hated talking to Batman when he was in costume because the mask made his face totally unreadable and, as he was looking at me, I wished I could see his eyes so I could know if he was judging me or if he was still angry.

"When you have confidence in your abilities, you don't feel as scared," was his mild, almost thoughtful reply.

"Then you and Nightwing must never be scared," I said, "You guys are the best!" Batman gave me another of his little quirked grins.

"You should keep practicing with Wing. It is good to be able to defend yourself. If you want, I can help you as well."

"That'd be amazing!" I yelped excitedly, "Training with the real Batman, that'd be the coolest!" Then, I happened to glance at the time. "Yeesh, I guess I better go, I gotta get to bed! Good night Batman!"

"Good night Timothy," I heard him say softly just as I was leaping out of the car. I turned around just in time to watch him speed away into the night.


	14. Chapter 13

I could barely contain my excitement, bouncing slightly beside my father in the backseat of the car. Dad had rented it for the evening, along with the driver. Dad could drive and had a car of course, but he seemed to think we needed to arrive at Wayne manor in style, even if it meant money was tight for the next couple of weeks. I couldn't believe we were headed out to a party together. We hadn't gone to a party in ages! Back when dad had money, he used to bring me to all the parties he was invited to. They were always great nights. Dad would boast about how smart I am and generally use me as a conversation starter to maneuver deals he was hoping for. The way he explained it to me, being a single dad showed that he had a good and reliable character and it gained him a few sympathy points, which could be useful for smoothing things over.

I didn't really mind being used this way. It was hard for dad to raise me all on his own and still keep up a successful career and it was fun to spend the evening with him. Anyway, the best part of the night was always when we went for ice cream, super late after the party was over, and talked and laughed about all the people we met and he told me about the deals he thought he had managed to strike, describing them even though I didn't really understand. The annual Wayne gala was a big deal to Dad, especially this year, since we hadn't gone to any other parties recently. I could tell he was worried that, without the money he'd had once, he was falling out with his usual socialite crowd. The Wayne gala was his big chance to curry favor and the air inside the car was full of tension.

"Dad, do you think we can go to Reilly's for ice cream?" I asked as we pulled up to the manor, "I heard they had this new flavor that is really…"

"Hush now Tim," Dad said absently, patting my head like I was a dog, "we can talk about it later".

"Ok," I agreed quietly, swallowing my disappointment. I tried to perk up though. After all, parties with Dad were always fun! We got out of the car, dad exchanging a few words with the driver, and then walked through the front door.

"Keep an eye out for Mr. Wayne," Dad murmured to me as we made our way past a dazzling array of guests dressed in fabulous attire, "we need to make sure we thank him for inviting us." I nodded, for the first time wondering how Bruce would react to me being here. I kept forgetting to mention the Wayne Gala, so I didn't even know if he knew I was coming. Would he be mad? I hoped not. After a few minutes of searching, we finally located the party host, in the center of a group of beautiful women in long, colorful dresses and a few men in smart, black suits. I knew when he took on his "Bruce Wayne" persona, he was different but it was unsettling to see just how different, especially since I had grown used to spending time with Batman.

Bruce had a huge smile on his face and was laughing and swirling a glass of something, taking an occasional sip and snorting with amusement every time he spilled some down his chest, delighting his gleeful entourage. We waded through the crowd, Dad holding tightly to my hand so he could drag me through behind him. As soon as Bruce sighted us, he bounded forward, pumping Dad's hand enthusiastically. "Jackie, it is so soooooooo good to see you! Now, listen," he leaned in conspiratorially, his voice slurring slightly like he was already tipsy, "we have to talk a little business, I have some shipments headed to Syria but the process needs to be…smoothed over…if you catch my drift. Could use a man with connections like you." Dad beamed. I could tell he was elated to be getting such an offer.

"Of course Bruce, want to talk now?"

"Yes, right now," Bruce said, "just for a few minutes. We are at a party after all and I have to…" he glanced down at me. "Ohh my word, this is your son isn't it, Terry, right?"

"Timothy," I replied, forcing back a laugh. His Bruce Wayne persona was so ridiculous, it was comical to think this was the same man I had seen crush that thug that had attacked me the other night. Dad gave me an annoyed look, like he would have preferred I just let Bruce think I was Terry, but Bruce didn't act offended.

"Ohh, of course, of course, my mistake. I may have had a bit too much to drink already," he muttered to my Dad, "and it's only 9 o'clock." They both laughed and Bruce surprised me by scooping me up and holding me at eye-level. "Well, now he is just about the cutest thing! You know, I loooooooove kids Jackie, and with my nest being so empty these days…well, let's just say I'm awfully jealous you get to have this young man running around. He's so handsome too, must take after your wife's side, huh?" He elbowed Dad, laughing at him good-naturedly, and put me down. "Tell you what," he said, kneeling at my level, "I think my butler Albert…Alfonso…? Yes, definitely Alfonso, well, anyway, I think he has some candy hidden around here somewhere. Why don't you go and see if you can find him while your daddy and I talk? Does that sound ok?"

I knew what dad wanted me to do so I just nodded eagerly in agreement and cried, "Yes sir, thank you!"

"Good, good," Bruce chirped, patting my head, "he's just over there, I think, go and say hello. Come on Jack, I have just the place where we can have our little chat." He took my father's arm, leading him away while I obediently bounded off towards where Alfred was standing, looking sophisticated and stoic.

"Hi there," I said brightly, "Mr. Wayne said you might have some candy for me,_ Alfonso_." I could see Alfred physically struggling to hold back his laughter as he gave me a discreet smack on the back of the head.

"You are incorrigible Master Timothy," he muttered to me as I snickered, "I have no candy but if you would like, you may get started on the cake." I nodded exuberantly so he handed me a slice and I scrambled up onto a nearby chair so I could sit beside him while I stuffed my face.

"He is so different as Bruce Wayne" I said wonderingly through a full mouth.

"Indeed," Alfred agreed, "it is a part I think he may actually enjoy playing, at least to a point."

"Do you think he's mad I'm here?" I asked, shoveling a forkful of chocolate icing into my mouth.

"No," Alfred replied mildly, "why would he be?" I shrugged.

"Nobody's supposed to know we're hanging out, although I guess he did act like he didn't know who I was. He got my name wrong too, called me Terry."

"Well," Alfred said pragmatically, "as long as you go along with the ruse, I see no harm in you being here. In truth, the master would have told you ahead of time if you were not welcome to attend."

"I guess," I agreed, "I wasn't sure if he knew I was coming."

"He may not have been aware you were to attend this particular party but I doubt it is a great surprise that you are here. He mentioned something to me about doing some business with your father in the near future."

"Yea," I affirmed, "he just dragged him off somewhere. It's good though, I think Dad's really happy about it."

"That is good," Alfred said, leaning down to wipe some frosting off my face with a handkerchief he pulled out of thin air.

"Stop!" I protested, struggling away from him with a laugh. Alfred smirked and straightened up.

"You probably ought to go and mingle a bit Master Timothy, this is a party after all."

'Nah," I said, "nobody here is interested in talking to me anyway. Dad just brings me along to help smooth over business deals and he's busy. I'll mingle when he's done."

"As you wish," Alfred agreed, "there is a room upstairs with Dick's old toys if you would like to go and play." I stuck my tongue out at him and Alfred gave me a dry smirk.

"What did Jason and Dick used to do at these things? They must have gone to tons of them since Bruce has so many parties."

"They did," Alfred replied, "and Master Dick occupied his time primarily by finding ways to be the center of attention. He would flirt and do acrobatics and generally annoy Master Bruce with his antics. Jason just liked to throw food at people and pull on their hair to see if they were wearing wigs. We lost a considerable amount of attendance at these parties while he was with us." I laughed and Alfred smiled warmly at the memory. Just then, I saw my Dad rejoining the party crowd. I scooted off my chair, waved goodbye to Alfred and bounded over to join him.

"Tim!" he said happily as I came to meet him, "Good news buddy!" He scooped me up and swung me around, causing me to squeal in pleasure. "We might be back in the money sooner than I thought," Dad said to me, holding me close.

"That's awesome," I cried, putting my arms around him and hugging him tightly. I was shocked when he hugged me back, I didn't know when the last time he hugged me was.

"Excuse me," a voice said. We both turned to see a young woman, blond hair half up in an elegant bun and half cascading down the back of her shimmering silver dress. I thought she was awfully pretty and apparently Dad thought so too because he put me down and turned to her.

"Hello," he said brightly, "What can I do for you?"

"You're Jack Drake, aren't you?"

"I am," Dad affirmed. The woman's face broke into a broad smile.

"I'm Dana, Dana Winters. You worked with my brother a few months ago. We met once at a charity tennis tournament, do you remember?" Dad thought for a moment and then smiled in recognition.

"Ohh yes, of course I do! I beat the two of you pretty badly, as I recall." Dana laughed.

"Yes, I'm afraid you did. We have to schedule a rematch sometime."

"We do," Dad said, "maybe I can fetch you another drink and we can discuss our schedules."

"I have a better idea," Dana said, "I'll go with you and get _you_ a drink. After all, I owe you one after your big win." Dad offered his arm to her and she took it as they walked towards the champagne table. I started to follow them but Dad stopped me.

"Why don't you go get something to eat Tim," he said.

"But I already…" and they were gone. The crowd closed behind them and I was left by myself amongst a group of very tall adults I did not know. To avoid being trampled, I made my way to the edge of the room, settling down with my back to the wall. Hopefully, Dad would be done with this woman soon and then, I could go back to him. I settled down to watch for him to return, gazing at the people as they floated by. I felt my eyelids start to droop. The movement of the guests was mesmerizing and I was already a little sleepy. I decided it wouldn't hurt if I just rested my head a little on my knees. My eyes slid shut as the party started to blur and my breathing slowed.

I hadn't intended to but I must have fallen asleep at some point because the rest of the evening was suddenly gone and I woke with a start. The ballroom had considerably fewer people in it now and those that remained looked like they were mostly getting ready to leave. I didn't see Dad anywhere. I scrambled to my feet, searching around frantically for him. He would be awfully mad if he couldn't find me and he was ready to go. I searched for twenty minutes, checking every place I could think of when, as I was rushing past a coat closet, the door suddenly burst open and Dad and Dana literally toppled out. They managed to stay on their feet, but only barely. Their clothes were wrinkled and they reeked of champagne. Dana was giggling frantically and Dad had a weird, big grin on his face.

"Ohh, Tim," he said, an awkward expression suddenly crossing his face. "I kind of…" he glanced at Dana, who was batting her eyelashes at him and biting her bottom lip, "forgot you were here."

"Yea," I said slowly, "I was looking for you, I mean, are you ready to go?"

"Yea," Dad said, "but…listen Tim." He rubbed the back of his neck almost guiltily, and Dana nuzzled up under his arm.

"Come oooooooon, Jackie," she slurred.

"I know, I know," he replied, grinning at her, "Tim, I'm…going home with Dana tonight." I stared at him, bewildered. "But listen…call the car service, have them come pick you up and take you home, you're a big boy, you can do that, can't you?"

"Umm…I guess, but I thought we would go for ice cream or…"

"Later Timmy, later," Dad replied, opening his wallet, "We can do whatever you want just not right now. Here, here's some money so you can tip the driver. Otherwise, it's all already paid for. I'll see you at home tomorrow, ok?" I nodded mutely, still too startled to say anything, as Dana started to drag him away. "I love you!" he called to me as he disappeared down the hall and out of sight. I stood by myself in the hallway for a few moments, almost unable to process what had just happened. Dad had…ditched me. I started to feel tears well up in my eyes. Dad had ditched me! I was just supposed to call the car service and go home by myself. Tears started to blur in front of my eyes as other guests made their way down the hallway and out the main door.

I shoved the money dad had given me roughly into my pocket and slunk away to the first deserted corner of the mansion I could find. Then, I curled up into a ball and started to cry. I knew it was stupid, I was eleven, too old to be crying like this, but I had been so excited to go out with Dad, just the two of us, to spend any time together, and he had ditched me. I knew Dad was busy and didn't have a lot of time for me and I had never held it against him but now, it seemed like I might actually have to face the fact that he didn't care about me. I had never even let myself think that before but now, curled up by myself behind a staircase in Wayne manor, the thought was beginning to sink in. I don't know quite how long I cried before I heard someone clear their throat beside me.

I looked up, my face messy and red, at Bruce Wayne, standing above me awkwardly. "Timothy," he said in the gentlest voice I think I had ever heard him use, "Are you ok? Where's your father?" I wiped the tears roughly from my eyes, too miserable to be embarrassed.

"Dad left with some woman," I muttered. "I'm supposed to call the car service so they can take me home. Can I borrow a phone? I forgot mine at home."

"Sure," Bruce agreed, bewildered, and handed me his cell phone. I had just typed in the first few digits when he suddenly seemed to realize what was going on. "Wait a second, hold on." I looked up at him. "Your father just left you here…by yourself…and you're just supposed to call a car service to take you home…all alone." I nodded mutely, knowing how ridiculous it sounded. "Well…you're not doing that."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"You can't take a car service by yourself, you're eleven. I'll just take you home."

"You've been drinking though," I said. Bruce actually smirked.

"Only water, I put an olive in it to make it look like a martini." I stared at him in surprise. "Come on," he beckoned, and started off. I stayed paused where I was.

"You don't have to go out of your way," I protested, "it's late, I'm sure you're tired." Bruce snorted.

"You, of all people, know the hours I keep. This isn't late for me. Anyway, I could use a drive. Come on." After a moment's indecision, I could see that he wasn't changing his mind so I followed him out of the house and down to the garage, which I had actually never been in, where he kept his non-Batman cars. They were all black and nondescript. I wasn't really a car person so I didn't know what kind they were but I got into the one he indicated and buckled in. The ride to my house was silent, as my rides with him always were. This one, though, had a bit of a different tone. He kept glancing over at me and clearing his throat, like he was going to say something but didn't. When we finally made it to my place, I quietly thanked him for the ride and started to get out of the car.

"Did you…did you happen to eat something at the party?" Bruce asked suddenly, taking me by surprise.

"A little," I replied, "a piece of cake." Bruce frowned.

"Do you have anything at your house to eat?" I thought for a moment about the can of green beans in the pantry and the milk in the fridge that, if I was lucky, wasn't spoiled.

"Kind of. I'm not that hungry anyway though, I'll just get something tomorrow." Bruce wrinkled his nose and thought for a moment.

"I…never get time to eat at any of my parties so I usually have to grab something after they're over. Dick got me in the habit of going out. Would you like to…come with me?" I blinked at him in surprise.

"Are there any places that are still open?" Bruce gave me a wry look.

"A few, though none of them are very good. You can come if you want." I shrugged. Going with him was certainly better than heading into my empty house and eating a can of green beans so I climbed back into the car. We stopped, to my surprise, at a Sonic. I gave Bruce a bewildered look and he smirked grimly. "Like I said, some places are open but not good ones." We pulled into a bay and he ordered a hot dog and a raspberry slush. When he asked me what I wanted, I tentatively ordered a cheeseburger and an ice cream cone. Dad may not be getting me ice cream but there wasn't any reason I needed to miss out. When I tried to offer Bruce the money my dad had given me to get home as payment, he waved it away.

"Keep it," he insisted, "buy some groceries or something."

Our food came and we sat in silence eating, until my natural chatty nature overcame my shyness and I said, "So you used to take Dick here?" Bruce nodded and chuckled.

"He would get…a footlong quarter pound coney, chili-fries and a grape slush with nerds. It was horrifying. He'd always drink the slush so fast, he'd choke on the nerds. I had to give him the Heimlich one time." I started laughing at the mental image and he laughed with me. "I didn't used to go out after parties until Dick pushed me to do it and he always insisted we come here. I guess the habit stuck. I don't think he really even liked the food, he just liked watching me watching him eat. It was always a spectacle."

I giggled and almost asked about Jason but something told me I shouldn't. Bruce seemed to like to talk about Dick though, so I asked another question about him. "Did you guys go on patrol after?" Bruce snorted.

"Dick couldn't move after all that food so we always just went home. Of course, he was wide awake after all the sugar so we would usually sit up and watch a movie or something together. I think I played video games with him a couple times. Only thing he could ever beat me at, which is why he loved playing." I grinned, imagining the two of them together and I felt a sudden sinking in the pit of my stomach when I thought of my own father.

We were quiet for a few minutes as we finished our food until Bruce spoke up almost absentmindedly. "Why would your dad just leave you?" I shrugged in reply.

"It's not that surprising," I said softly, "he does this kind of thing a lot. I don't think…I don't think he really cares about me." Bruce looked down at me with a frown.

"I'm sure that's not true." I shrugged again.

"I don't know, I just…my dad is super busy. He always has been, what with his work and all, and I guess I've always understood but, listening to the stories that Dick tells about you and him when he was growing up and the ones about you and Jason…" I could feel the tears welling up again but I was too tired to care about trying to hide them "…I mean you were busy too but you guys still had such great times together. My dad though…he never has time to do…anything with me and he never even makes time…I thought that tonight…we were gonna get to hang out together but then…then he left with that woman and left me all alone and I just don't know…why."

I was crying fully now, just as hard as I had been before, crying right there in front of him and he just sat there awkwardly, obviously not quite sure what to do. Then, he put a tentative arm around my shoulders and, without really thinking about it, I nuzzled into his side, crying all the tears right out of me until, exhausted, I fell asleep.


	15. Chapter 14

I hadn't been to the manor since the Wayne Gala and it had been days. I was too embarrassed. When I had woken up the morning after, I had been in my own bed, although I did not remember getting there. The last thing I did remember was crying myself to sleep leaning against Bruce in his expensive car after he bought me Sonic. I was mortified. I couldn't believe that I had shared so much with him, that I had cried on him and that I had fallen asleep in his car and he had to put me to bed. I couldn't go back to the manor, not after all that. So, I just laid low at the house, trying my best to continue my work from there. Without the use of the bat computers, things were slower and trickier but I did what I could.

I made no progress on the Namibia front. The reasons for my dad being there and the earthquake that had coincided with his trip remained as cryptic as ever, something that continued to frustrate me since I felt sure it was key to some big break in the case I had yet to make. I did, however, get lucky and find a resume that my dad had recently posted to a website for finding a new job. This was important because it finally told me what he had been doing for work for the past few months. My dad had acted as an international shipping consultant. This title was a bit vague and could refer to many things but, in this case, it likely meant he smoothed things over in different countries when big shipments had to come in, making sure they arrived on time and where they were supposed to. Though this was not necessarily obviously useful, it at least gave me an idea of what he would have been involved in.

In regard to Jeremy's murder, I had been right about finding the location of his video. I had managed to finish analysis of the soil samples and downloaded the results before the Wayne Gala, which confirmed my suspicions. Now, I had to uncover what he was doing in that spot. I looked into the records from the dock the night of Jeremy's last video and found a list of the organizations receiving shipments and the weights of those shipments. It was a rather mundane list of twelve companies, none of which jumped out as being of interest to Jeremy, at least not at first glance.

One of them did strike me as a little odd though. It was called Namazu Inc. and, from what I could tell, they were a mining company, specializing in the acquisition and processing of rare metals. There didn't seem to be a good reason for them to be importing anything to Gotham. The metals they dug up had to be sold to other companies for further processing before they could be useable to anyone and none of the companies they normally sold to had any ties to Gotham. In fact, as far as I could tell, Namazu had only very recently started importing things in Gotham. I found a record of their prior shipments but, with only weights listed, I could draw very few conclusions. Anyway, I had no reason to suspect Namazu any more than any of the other companies shipping to that same dock that night.

Frustrated that all the stones I had turned over thus far had yielded no results and tired of sitting in front of my computer in the dark, I resolved to get out of the house for a while. It was a rainy Saturday and dad was out of town on business. From what I had gathered, this was in service to his new position, working for Bruce, which seemed to make him really happy. That made me happy too though I wished he was here so he could do something with me. As I made my breakfast, I pondered what I wanted to do. I loved to skateboard but a rainy day wasn't any good for that. I could go see a movie. I was used to going to see movies by myself but there wasn't anything out worth seeing.

What about…the museum. I hadn't been in a long time since it was across town and I had to take a bus and a train to get there. I had the whole day to myself though, so I didn't mind the extra time it would take. Going there might give me a chance to look into the Red Lady angle of my case a little more. It wasn't one I had explored very much, as there was almost no online trail but, if I was right, there might be a person at the museum worth talking to about it. If nothing else, the distraction of wandering around the building might help my brain relax enough to come up with some new leads.

I gathered what I'd need, some money and some snacks and a binder and shoved them into my backpack before bounding to the front door and swinging it open. There, standing on my step looking awkward, was Bruce. "Hello Timothy, might I come in?" Though he had a large umbrella to shield him from the downpour, it was clear he was still getting drenched so I stumbled out of his way to let him in the door.

"Of course, of course," I agreed, "is everything ok?"

"Yes, everything's fine," Bruce said, "I just…well, I was hoping to see your father."

"He's out of town," I replied slowly, "working on that project for you…" Bruce pursed his lips, looking even more awkward than he had before.

"Right…I forgot about that. Well…no need to tell him I stopped by, I'm sure I'll see him soon since he's doing work for…me." We stood in silence for a few moments, neither of us quite sure what to say, it seemed, until he spoke again. "So…I haven't seen you around the manor recently. I thought maybe we just hadn't crossed paths…what with the hours I keep, but Alfred said you hadn't been by since the gala."

"Yea," I affirmed, "I…haven't been."

"Is…is everything alright?" Bruce asked.

"Yea, I just…umm…well, I guess I was just kinda embarrassed…you know…after what happened." Bruce stared at me blankly. "I was…crying…and stuff."

"Ohh, yes, right that well, there isn't really anything to be embarrassed about. Kids cry, just something that happens and you're a kid so…I mean…Dick used to cry all the time…usually over stupid shit…still kinda does. The last time we watched a movie together, he cried. I didn't think Finding Nemo was that moving but he…thought so I guess. Anyway, don't be embarrassed and don't let what happened keep you from…coming by the manor. Alfred…likes seeing you around."

"He does?" I asked hopefully, deciding to stop Bruce before he awkwardly rambled anymore.

"Yea, he does," Bruce affirmed. "I guess you're a little more pleasant to be around than me." He gave me a wry smile, which I returned with a grin. We lapsed into silence again until Bruce cleared his throat and said, "Well anyway, since Jack isn't here, I'll just be going."

"Ok," I said, and followed him out the door.

"Are you going somewhere?" he asked, holding his umbrella over me as I locked the door.

"Yea, the museum," I said, "thought it might be nice to get out of the house for a while."

"Hmm," Bruce mused, "do you want some company?" I stared at him in surprise.

"Do you want to come?" I asked.

"Sure," he replied, "I mean, if you don't mind. I haven't been in many years, since no one ever wants to go with me."

"Yea," I said with a grin, "Dick doesn't strike me as the museum type."

"He is not," Bruce affirmed dryly. "Well, my car is parked right there, why don't we get going?"

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For the first time I think…ever, we talked while we were in the car together, although part of me wished that we didn't. Bruce usually had Alfred drive him places when he was in "Bruce Wayne" mode, meaning he rarely got behind the wheel of a car that wasn't the batmobile. That showed in his somewhat…erratic style and more than once, I felt the need to discreetly grip the door and brace for impact, though luckily, we never actually hit anything. "So," Bruce said as we drove, cutting off a lady in a small red car who honked angrily at him, "does this trip have anything to do with your case?" I gave him a small, abashed grin.

"Yea, I mean…sorta. I wanted to see where the Red Lady was housed. I mean, I know it's not there anymore but I thought…" I opened up one of my binders and flipped through "…I might be able to talk to…this guard, Fred Aimsley." Bruce glanced over at the picture I was showing him, a blown-up image of the background of a publicity photo of the Red Lady taken just before it was moved. I realized I shouldn't be drawing his eyes away from the road a few moments later when he slammed on the brakes, narrowly avoiding rear-ending a FedEx truck.

"Damn Gotham drivers," he grumbled, swerving around the truck, "none of them know what they're doing. Anyway, why do you want to talk to him?"

"Well," I replied, easing my grip on the seat, "he's in the background of a lot of the images of the Red Lady, especially the ones people post on social media. I think he's the primary guard for it. I read somewhere that the Crinkle family likes to have a special guard present with the Red Lady at all times and this man seems to take the day shifts, or a lot of them anyway."

"What makes you think he didn't go with the Red Lady when it was loaned out?"

"Because, unlike the other guards, he is on the payroll of the museum. He also works…in that same wing guarding the second most priceless artifact the museum has, the Cat-eye diamond." Since we were at a red light, I showed Bruce the picture I had of the diamond. He nodded in acknowledgement. "Apparently, Mr. Aimsley is the only one who's ever been able to keep Cat-woman from stealing it, except you of course, so the museum likes to have him around even when the Red Lady is out of town."

"And you figured all that out yourself?" Bruce asked, "That's…fairly impressive." I blushed a little.

"Thank you. I mean, I'm sure it took me a lot longer than it would have taken you but I got there eventually."

"What makes you think this guard will have anything useful to tell you?" Bruce asked as we parked in front of the museum.

"I don't know that he will," I replied, "but I figured it's worth a shot. I needed a break from sitting in front of my computer."

"I can understand that," Bruce said, getting out of the car. "Well then, it sounds like that's our first stop." We made our way through the museum straight to the precious jewels exhibit where the Red Lady was being displayed and, while I was looking around for the guard, Bruce wandered off on his own. I found Mr. Aimsley where I expected to, standing discreetly near the Cat-Eye. In other cities, it might have seemed a bit silly to have a guard for a specific item in a museum but, we had so many weird, themed villains in Gotham, it was always open season on anything that was remotely valuable and had an animal name or a calendar name or was vaguely clown related.

I took a few moments to compose myself, trying to figure out what I wanted to say. Then, I walked up to Mr. Aimsley slowly, glancing at my map and around me as I did so I'd look like I was a little lost. "Excuse me," I said in my smallest, most respectful voice. While I hated how small I was, it did have its advantages sometimes, namely that people generally respond well to little kids, especially if they're well-behaved. The man looked down at me.

"Yes?"

"Can you tell me where the Red Lady is?"

Mr. Aimsley crouched down to my level and said, "Well, sorry young man but I'm afraid it's been moved to another museum."

"Forever?" I asked, trying to call a few tears up into my eyes. Mr. Aimsley, as I hoped, was quick to try and comfort me.

He put a gentle hand on my shoulder and said, "No, no, not forever, just for a little while. Why, I bet if you come back next month, it'll already be back."

"Ok," I said slowly, still sounding sad, "I was really hoping to see it though. My mommy went to heaven a little while ago and it was her favorite thing in the whooooooole museum." That got the man's attention. I felt a little guilty bringing mom into this but it was really important, so she probably wouldn't mind.

"Ohh, I'm sorry," Mr. Aimsley soothed, "but like I said, it'll be back soon."

I nodded, pretending to pull back my tears and asked, "Is it really as pretty as people say?"

"Ohh yea," Mr. Aimsley affirmed, "it's gorgeous. You know, it has the largest pure white diamond in the world and exactly seventy-three perfect little red rubies."

"Really?" I asked, interested, "You know a lot about it!" The man seemed to swell a bit.

"Yep, I know everything there is to know about the Red Lady, I've been guarding her for fifteen years."

"That's a long time," I squeaked.

"Mmm hmm," Mr. Aimsley agreed, "and do you want to know something else about the Red Lady, something most people don't know." I nodded eagerly and he leaned in, whispering conspiratorially. "It's actually not made all out of rubies like people think."

"Really?" I asked, interested for real this time because that wasn't something I had heard before. Mr. Aimsley shook his head.

"It also has quite a bit of Ladium. Have you ever heard of Ladium?" I shook my head honestly.

"It's a very special metal, named after the Red Lady because it was first found along with the rubies that make her up. Isn't that something?"

"Yea," I agreed, "you know soooooooo much, you must be the smartest person in the whole museum!" Mr. Aimsley chuckled and I could tell my comment had pleased him.

"I don't know about that," he said, "but if you have any other questions, you can just let me know."

"Well," I said slowly, "I heard that the Red Lady sometimes gets moved if something bad is gonna happen. Is that really true?" The guard chuckled.

"I don't know about that, but she always does seem to make herself scarce when trouble's brewing. We haven't seen any trouble so far though."

"How does it know to move?" I asked, "Or, I guess, how do people know to move it?"

"That's all Mr. Crinkle's decision," Mr. Aimsley said, "he's the owner of the Red Lady. I've heard a lot of rumors about it, being that I've worked here for so long, everything from the Red Lady telling him herself that she needs to move to Mr. Crinkle's private psychic having a say. No one really knows for sure."

"Wow," I said, trying my best to seem like an awed little kid.

Mr. Aimsley grinned broadly at me and whispered again, "Well, you know I can tell you something I heard this time, probably wouldn't do no harm."

"What?" I asked.

"Mr. Crinkle came himself to pick up the Lady, he always does when she's moved, and I overheard him say something about an earthquake." I frowned.

"But Gotham doesn't get earthquakes."

"That's what I thought," Mr. Aimsley agreed, "but I guess we'll see. I'll tell yea, if we do get an earthquake, it might just make me a believer." I nodded eagerly.

"Well," I said, "thanks so much for talking to me, my daddy's waiting for me."

"Anytime young man," Mr. Aimsley agreed, "I hope to see you in a month or two when the Red Lady comes back."

"For sure," I chirped, and scurried off, my mind spinning. An earthquake. That seemed significant.

I bounced over to where Bruce was, my mind still turning over the facts, but before I could really think it through, he said mildly, "Did you know that this priceless emerald necklace once belonged to a princess in Austria?"

I looked down at the necklace, which sported a distinctly phallic shape made up of emeralds, and then up at him and said, "No, I had no idea." Bruce looked down at me.

"Neither did I. How interesting." We looked at each other for a moment and then started laughing. "Well," Bruce said, "I think I am done with this particular exhibit. Priceless gems were never of much interest to me, unless you need some more time here." I shook my head.

"I'm all done, with this place anyway. Maybe…maybe we could go see something else." Bruce nodded and looked down at his map.

"There was an exhibit on mushrooms that came a while back I had wanted to see but never got around too."

"Oo," I exclaimed, "I love mushrooms. Can we do that?"

"Sure," Bruce agreed.

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"I know it's true," Bruce insisted, spattering mustard from his weird museum hotdog onto his pants, "I heard about it last year, they found real dinosaur DNA in a fossil for the first time, I _know_ they did."

"They didn't!" I insisted. He hadn't noticed the mustard and I thought it was really funny so I just let it stay. "I know they didn't because I for sure would have read about it if they had!"

"Alright, alright," Bruce said, "listen I am going to look it up right now. He whipped out his phone while I chowed down on my weird museum cheeseburger. We had been arguing since we had left the dinosaur exhibit but I knew I was about to be vindicated so I just waited while he scrolled through his phone, looking increasingly annoyed as he did.

"Can't find it, can you?" I asked sassily, stealing one of his fries when he wasn't looking.

"I just can't find it right now," Bruce conceded finally, "but that doesn't mean I'm wrong. And those are not yours!" He snatched the fry from my hand. "I told you I would buy you fries if you wanted them! These are mine."

"I just wanted to try one," I whined. He frowned at me for a moment and then slowly pushed his little paper bowl of fries towards me. "You may try _one_." I took the biggest fry I could find, gave him a smug smile, and took a big bite. I gagged.

"Ok, I made the right choice. Here, take them back." I shoved the bowl back towards him. He gave me a superior smile but I saw him give the bowl a discreet little push to the edge of the table. In a minute, I was sure he was going to "accidently" push them onto the floor.

"Well, anyway, never mind about the dinosaur DNA thing, if they haven't found it yet, I'm sure they will soon and then, we will definitely have living dinosaurs."

"You already have a dinosaur," I insisted, "just not…you know…a living one. Besides, haven't you run into a real live dinosaur in your…extra-curriculars."

"Sure but it wasn't like…for sale. I'm saying, I want them to be on the market, like as pets."

"I'd want a Triceratops," I said.

"Nope, T-rex, T-rex all the way," Bruce insisted, "really the only choice."

"You know, T-rex was most likely a scavenger," I replied, "not even a real hunter. Kind of lame, honestly." Bruce frowned at me again.

"I don't like talking about dinosaurs with you, you know more about them than I do." I laughed.

"Maybe we should talk about Wayne Enterprises stock options instead." Bruce smirked.

"Actually, you probably know more about those than I do as well. Hey, I gave you that…homework to look at before the Gala, did you ever get around to it."

"Ohh, yea," I affirmed, "I don't have it with me but, for sure, the butler did it."

"I thought so," Bruce mused, "it's always the butler. I really ought to get rid of mine." I giggled. "What makes you so sure though?"

"The weird cow prints on the lawn," I replied, "they puzzled me for a while until I remembered that moonshiners used to have special shoes that they wore to avoid leaving a trail that the cops could follow back to where they were making their whisky. The butler has a grandfather who was a moonshiner. It explains why there were no shoe prints around the body."

"Of course," Bruce said, "I don't know why I didn't spot that. Well, I guess a certain member of the order Chiroptera is going to have to swing by and pick him up later this evening." I nodded and finished off my cheeseburger. The fries were teetering a little now. I wondered if I should say something but, before I could Bruce glanced at his watch and then said, "Well, it's getting a little late. I'm afraid I have to get back to work. Do you want a ride home or are you gonna stay a while?"

"I'll take a ride, if it's ok," I said, "then I can give you the…homework."

"Sure," Bruce agreed, and got up, knocking the fries right off the table with his elbow as he did. "Whoops, guess I'll have to toss those."

"I know you did that on purpose," I said, stooping to pick up his discarded snack.

He knelt to help me, whispering as he did, "Well, our Chiropteran friend would insist you needed proof of intent to convict and I'm afraid you have none."

"I don't know if our Chiropteran friend is so discerning," I replied, "pretty sure he beats people up first and lets the police sort out the intent later."

"Well, good thing I'm too big for you to beat up," Bruce replied, straightening up with the fries in hand. He tossed them into the garbage can and started towards the museum exit, I trotting in his wake. "Anyway, while I'm driving, you need to keep searching for that article I was talking about, the dinosaur DNA one."

"I'll keep looking," I agreed, "but I doubt I'll find anything." Bruce gave me a wry look and surprised me by dropping a hand on my shoulder as we walked out of the museum together. The whole day had been a surprise, a really wonderful surprise. Bruce had seemed happy, like actually happy, and it was the first time he had ever seemed that way, at least in front of me. I had known he was warming up to me but today, it was almost like we were friends. He was so easy to talk to and so fun to be around. I wondered if this was what having a dad was supposed to feel like. I certainly hadn't spent any time like this with my dad in forever.

All the way back to my house, we bantered and, when I returned to the car with the case file he had lent me, my homework, he took it gratefully and said, "Will I see you at the cave tomorrow?" I nodded eagerly.

"For sure," I affirmed.

"Good," Bruce said, "take a look at the new case I gave you tonight if you can. It's got a monkey in it."

"Sweet," I said, "I'll have it solved by tomorrow."

"I'll hold you to it," Bruce replied and with that, he was speeding off down the road, narrowly avoiding an ice cream truck as he went. I spent the rest of the evening pouring over the file, happier than I had been in a very long time.


	16. Chapter 15

I woke up in a cold sweat. Earthquakes! I scrambled out of bed and over to my laptop. Earthquakes! I happened to glance at my clock as I was logging in. It was three a.m., hours since I had gone to bed. I had actually fallen asleep at a reasonable time that night, tired from my trip to the museum and flushed with success after solving the monkey case Bruce had given me, which was probably why I had been dreaming. I was usually too tired to dream. Now though, as I plunged into cyber space, I was wide awake.

The Red Lady was being moved because of an earthquake. I hadn't thought about it since Mr. Aimsley had told me. What had happened in Namibia might just have been a coincidence but…I decided to try something, something that hadn't occurred to me to try before. I started checking into earthquakes. I found that there is actually a database where recent earthquakes were catalogued and tracked, even small ones. The one that had happened in Namibia was on record as a magnitude 8.5, high enough to destroy a city if it had been in one. Seeing as it was in the desert, it hadn't made headlines but the earthquake community was discussing what occurred.

I started searching through the places my dad had been around the time he had traveled to Namibia and found a startling trend. Four of his travel destinations in the six months before his Namibia trip saw earthquakes just after he left. They were all much smaller than the Namibian quake, none of them larger than a four on the Richter scale, and only caused a small amount of localized damage. There were two odd things about the quakes, however. The first was that they all had only a single fatality listed, a person who was found right at the epicenter of the quake. Through a little bit of hacking, I was able to find that, in each case, the person died officially from being crushed but it was found that every single bone in their body was broken. This was super unlikely to occur, even if the person was crushed, especially four times.

The second odd thing about the quakes was that their epicenter was always in the industrial district of a city. This wouldn't necessarily be weird if it hadn't happened in all four of the cases I was investigating. In fact, it seemed like these quakes had their epicenter within a large building in the industrial center each time. I looked up who owned each of the buildings. That, at first, looked like a dead end. They were all owned by different companies. But, one of the names caught my eye, Posidous Inc.. Poseidon, I remembered learning in school, was the Greek god of the sea but he was also considered the cause of earthquakes. That was a kind of freaky coincidence.

After figuring that out, I checked the names of the other companies. One was Onimikė Enterprises., the Algonquin name for the Thunderbird, which was said to cause the world to rock violently through its struggles with a mighty whale. The third company was called Tepeyollotl corp., named for an Aztec mountain god who took the form of a jaguar and leapt towards the sun, causing the earth to tremble. The fourth company was Tuli LLC., a name that took a lot more digging to figure out but eventually, I found was the name of a Siberian god who drove the earth in a sled pulled by dogs. When the dogs stopped to scratch their fleas, everything shook. I dug for hours and could find no connections between the companies, other than their names, but I was well past the point of thinking this was a coincidence. None of the organizations were older than a year and I could not find a single record of what they did.

But, how did this all tie into Gotham? On a whim, I looked back through my records to find the list of names of companies that were importing things to the same place Jeremy had been the night of his fateful final video. Namazu, the mining company! Namazu, I learned, was the name of a catfish in Japanese mythology that caused the earth to shake by thrashing around in the mud. I sat back in my chair for a moment, overwhelmed. The case had cracked wide open…sort of. It was clear now that something was going on, but what? All these earthquake-named companies had to be…causing the earthquakes, right? But why? And why was the one in Namibia so huge and the others so small? What could I expect from the one in Gotham? I was convinced now that Gotham was going to experience an earthquake, although I still didn't know when. I chewed the end of my pencil, thinking hard. Why would someone want to start an earthquake?

Namazu was a…mining company. So, maybe this had to do with mining. Something occurred to me then, an old video of Jeremy's I remembered seeing. His site had been taken down, of course, but some of his fans had reposted a few of his videos they had saved in the weeks following his death and, after a long time spent scrolling through web pages, I found the video I was looking for. It was a PSA about how, if you spent enough time digging in your backyard, you could get rich. I remembered this video because, even though we were still rich at the time that I'd seen it, I had gotten caught up in the exciting possibility of buried treasure and dug a huge hole in the garden, much to Dad's chagrin. Anyway, Jeremy's reasoning for this bold claim had to do with Ladium.

Ladium was more of an interesting oddity than anything else, at least until it was discovered that it could act as a semi-conductor which surpassed the performance of silicon. The only problem was that it had always been pretty scarce. You could still make a fair amount of money if you sold it to the right research groups though and Gotham, the location where Ladium had originally been discovered, had always been rumored to host a large vein of it somewhere. Jeremy swore up and down that a mining company had finally located this vein, although he did not know which one. What would a company be willing to do to get its hands on a large supply of this metal? Would they be willing to cause an earthquake? I could see it. After all, if the vein was truly under Gotham, there was no way a company would be allowed to mine it. But a big enough earthquake could destroy the whole city and then…

I had no proof, just a lot of speculation, but it was enough, it had to be! Namazu had a company headquarters in Gotham. If they caused an earthquake like the one in Namibia, a lot of people would die. I had to do something. It was one in the afternoon by the time I finished all my research and I was exhausted, but I gathered up my evidence, organized it as best I could in four large binders and rushed to Wayne manor. Bruce would have to believe me this time. At the very least, maybe he would look into it. He believed in me now, or so it seemed, what with the work he had given me and all. And then, when he took over the case, he would fill in the gaps I had been unable to and take out the bad guys and everything would be fine!

I felt such an unbelievable sense of relief as I was riding the bus over. After all, this thing that had been hanging over my head for so long was finally going to be resolved. I wasn't going to have to worry anymore! Then, as the bus pulled up to my usual stop and I tugged my bike off the front, it occurred to me that, now that it was solved, I wouldn't need to spend so much time at Wayne manor. That made me pause. Even though I had been worried about what was going to happen to Batman, I had really enjoyed getting the chance to work with him and Dick and use the equipment in the cave. It had given me a sense of purpose I hadn't had in a long time. Well, maybe Bruce would let me keep working cases with him. I sure hoped he would.

I pedaled as fast as I could, stowed my bike in its usual place and bounded into the manor. "Hello Master Timothy," Alfred said, greeting me warmly as I passed him, "I haven't seen you in a few days."

"Yea," I apologized, "sorry about that, things were…complicated but it's all good now! Anyway, would it be ok if I came and helped you with chores in a couple minutes. I gotta go talk to Bruce, it's real important!"

"Of course," the butler agreed. "I should warn you though, he appears to be in a bit of a mood today."

"That's ok," I said, "is he in the cave?"

"Yes," Alfred affirmed, "good luck." I grinned and headed down. Bruce being in a mood wasn't all that surprising but it did make me slightly less optimistic about my chance of convincing him to look into my case. Well, my evidence would speak for itself. As soon as I reached the cave, I could tell Alfred was right. Bruce was fully suited up in his Batman attire, cowl up and everything, unusual at this time of day, especially when he was just working from home. He didn't look up or greet me when I walked in, even though I knew he was aware I had arrived.

"Bruce!" I said breathlessly, bounding over to him, "listen, I gotta tell you something! I solved the case, my case and it's really big! It's…"

"Get out." His voice was soft so I almost believed I hadn't heard him right the first time.

"Excuse me?"

"Get out," Bruce snapped, louder this time. His back was still to me but his voice cracked like a whip through the air, stopping me in my tracks.

"What…what do you mean?" I asked.

"Get out and don't come back here," Bruce growled.

"Wait…listen, I have to tell you…"

"Didn't you hear what I just said, I told you to get out!" Bruce roared, wheeling around to face me. I had never seen him look so angry, not even when he and Dick had been arguing the first night I had come to the manor. I stumbled backwards out of shock, tripping over a bit of loose stone behind me. I landed heavily on my backside. He loomed over me now, his face contorted with rage. "I DON'T WANT TO HEAR ABOUT YOUR STUPID CASE! I TOLD YOU, I'VE BEEN TELLING YOU THIS WHOLE TIME, IT'S ALL IN YOUR HEAD, THIS IS NOTHING!" I was utterly bewildered, frozen in shock. I had no idea why he was so angry with me. It was like the day before had never happened, like the last few weeks had never happened.

"B…but I thought…" I tried softly but he wouldn't hear another word from me. He grabbed me roughly by my neck, hauled me up and slammed me into the wall of the cave behind me. I whimpered in pain but he took no notice. His face was inches from mine and I could feel his hot breath on my lips.

"Go," he hissed at me, "I don't have time to listen to the pathetic ravings of a lonely boy with a dead mother and a father who doesn't love him." His hand was tight around my throat, so much so I almost couldn't breathe. I gasped for air, my hands clutching at his fingers, and he finally dropped me. I didn't spend long on the ground though, I didn't want to take my chances. I had never been so scared, not even when I'd been attacked on my way home from Jeremy's house. I scrambled to my feet, rushed up the stairs and out of the cave. Alfred called to me as I ran past him but I didn't stop. I didn't stop running until I made it to my bike. Then, I clambered on and started pedaling away from the manor, as hard as I could until I couldn't breathe anymore.

I collapsed on the side of the road, gasping for air, with tears streaming down my cheeks. I had no idea what happened or what I could have done to make him so angry. It was like he hated me and, though I thought long and hard while I sobbed on the side of the road, I couldn't figure it out. I thought he liked me, I thought we were…friends. I couldn't focus on that now though, no matter how much it was breaking my heart. A giant earthquake was about to hit Gotham and I couldn't stop it. No one would listen to me. I couldn't go to the police, not now. Even if they did believe me, there was information I had that wasn't easy to explain. They might figure out Batman had helped me and then discover his secret identity. I couldn't chance that. Despair threatened to overwhelm me. I had failed. Now, looking back on all that had happened, I couldn't imagine why I had thought I would succeed in the first place. After all, Bruce was right, I was just a stupid little kid trying to fill up his lonely life with a sense of purpose. I couldn't convince myself I had been wrong about what I found though. Now, more than ever, I was convinced that something terrible was going to happen. I may have failed to convince Batman of that but I was sure it was still going to happen.

A lot of people were going to die if someone didn't do something, if I didn't do something. But, what could one little kid do? I took a deep breath. They had to be stopped, even if it meant I had to do it on my own. The thought terrified me but I tried my best to swallow my fear. I couldn't afford to be scared right now, I had to be brave like Batman was. I could go to Namazu's headquarters, find the machine they were going to use to cause the earthquake and destroy it. All the time I spent getting home, I didn't once let myself think that I couldn't do it. I would destroy the machine because I had to and that was all there was to it.


	17. Chapter 16

The first clue I got that something was wrong was the fact that Tim didn't text fifteen times to confirm we were meeting up. He always did that. I guess he just liked to make sure things were well planned, which I didn't mind. It was kinda funny and, after meeting three times, I was used to it. The texts didn't come though, not even one, in the two days leading up to our scheduled training session. Then, when the training session arrived and he never showed up, I got really concerned. I waited at my personal gym for an hour but he never arrived. I didn't like the idea of him riding the bus all the way from Gotham to Blϋdhaven by himself but my time was super limited and this was the only place we could meet besides the cave. During the hour I waited, I called, texted and even sent him an email. Not a peep.

Really worried now, I drove all the way to Gotham as soon as I had time to look for him. I started at his house but found it empty, the lights off and the doors locked. I went to the bus station next and snuck in, looking at their records. Tim never even bought a ticket. If he had disappeared, it hadn't been on his way to see me. I called his school next, pretending to be someone who wanted to give him an award, kind of stupid but the best I could come up with on short notice. No one had seen him for a week, not that the people at the school seemed to find that alarming. Apparently, Jack would take Tim on business trips sometimes, or at least he used to, and once or twice he had forgotten to call. Everyone assumed something like that had occurred. I was not nearly so convinced.

Not sure what else to do, I motored up to Wayne manor. I found Alfred sweeping the front steps. He waved when he saw me. "Master Dick, it is awfully good to see you," he said, hugging me tightly.

"It's good to see you too Alf," I agreed, "hey, has Tim been over here recently." Alfred's face darkened.

"The last I saw him was Sunday. I am not sure what Master Bruce said to him but he left here in a great rush and has not been back since."

"Well, we were supposed to meet up today and he never showed. I can't find anyone who's seen him all week." Alfred's face screwed with concern.

"You do not think something has happened to him, do you?" he asked.

"I don't know," I replied, "I need to talk to Bruce."

"Master Dick, you…Master Bruce is not well right now."

"What do you mean, not well?" I asked. Alfred pursed his lips, obviously not quite sure what to say and how to say it.

"Well, anyway, Master Tim is more important. Master Bruce is in his study, go and see him there." I nodded, feeling trepidation. Alfred didn't often bother to warn me about Bruce's moods. I knew them almost as well as he did by now. If he was concerned…I made my way to the study and immediately noticed it was dark. I thought for a few moments that he wasn't in there but, when I pushed the door open, I saw a single lamp shining in the darkness, illuminating the glass case where Jason's costume was kept. Bruce sat in an armchair facing it and, in the languid light, his eyes looked dull and glassy.

"Go away Dick," he said softly. Jason's costume caused me to pause. It was usually down in a dark corner of the cave, a corner I avoided. Now, with it out in the open, it felt like there was a ghost in the room and I didn't want to get too close but I took a deep breath and approached. Beside Bruce, a bottle of whisky sat but I knew he hadn't had any. He might have been tempted to drink but he never did. Batman thrived on pain and wouldn't try to dull it, no matter how much he wanted to.

"Bruce, Tim's missing, we have to find him."

"He's not our concern," Bruce murmured, eyes fixed on the case. It was like it had hypnotized him.

"Yes, he is," I countered, getting between him and the costume, "now get up, we have to find him."

"Go and find him yourself," Bruce grunted. He wouldn't meet my gaze, it was like he was looking right through me.

"This is not a time to wallow in your guilt," I said, "I need to find Tim and I need your help. Alfred said you said something to him and he left in a hurry."

"I told him to leave," Bruce murmured wistfully, "I told him to leave and never come back." I clinched and unclinched my fists, wanting to punch him but knowing that wouldn't be productive.

"Why would you say that to him?" For the first time, Bruce's eyes met mine and there was a spark of reproach in them.

"Because I was growing…fond of him and I can't…I can't do that again. I can't care about anyone anymore."

"Well, you're stuck there," I growled, "because you care about me and Alfred."

"You both can't be helped," Bruce replied, his voice meandering and almost dreamy, "but he could. He won't come back now, not after what I said to him."

"HE IS NOT JASON!" I roared, fed up with him now. "HE IS NOT JASON, I AM NOT JASON, ALFRED IS NOT JASON! YOU CAN'T STOP PUSHING PEOPLE AWAY JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE AFRAID THEY'LL END UP LIKE JASON!" That got a rise out of him. I don't know if it was the yelling or the fact that I said Jason's name so many times, a name no one dared say in front of him, not even Alfred. He got up out of his chair and shoved me backwards as hard as he could. I collided with the case that held Jason's costume, knocking it over. It crashed onto the ground, shattering into a million pieces and I fell among them.

"YOU DON'T GET TO TALK TO ME LIKE THAT. YOU DON'T GET TO SAY WHAT I CAN AND CAN'T DO! I DIED THAT DAY!"

"Bruce, I loved him too, maybe even as much as you did, but this has to stop! I love you so much and I can't watch you do this to yourself anymore. Tim was right! He came to me weeks ago because he was worried about you and the way you were acting. He was sure you were going to get yourself killed and I…didn't listen. I was still so angry with you over what happened but it wasn't your fault and it wasn't mine."

"SO, YOU WOULD BLAME JASON FOR WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM!" Bruce howled, "YOU THINK IT WAS HIS OWN FAULT HE DIED. THAT'S WHAT EVERYONE SAYS, ISN'T IT, THAT HE WAS VIOLENT, THAT HE WAS UNSTABLE, THAT HE ASKED FOR IT! YOU THINK THAT TOO!"

"Of course I don't," I replied, feeling tears start to well up in my eyes, "of course I don't think that. It wasn't his fault either, it wasn't any of our fault. It just happened Bruce, it just fucking happened and now…now we have to find some way to move on." I didn't even feel angry anymore. I had used up the last burst of my anger yelling at him and there was nothing but grief remaining, grief deeper than any I had ever felt. I thought it might crush me. Bruce just looked…lost now. He looked the way I felt, like he had been filling himself up with anger so that there wasn't any room inside of him for grief but now, his last reserves of rage had been tapped. He sunk to his knees in front of me, his eyes wide and frightened and hurt and seeing him that way made me feel frightened too.

"I can't move on," he said softly, "you're wrong, it was my fault. I wasn't there for him. I knew he was going through a lot but I couldn't…be there for him…I couldn't help him and then…then he died. I didn't think any pain would ever match what I felt when my parents passed but this is…so much worse. He depended on me, he thought I was going to take care of him and I…didn't. Over and over in my mind, I keep imagining his last moments, how he was expecting me to come for him and how he felt when he realized I wouldn't make it. He must have been so scared and in so much pain. It's all there, in my brain, all the time. I can't…go on like this Dick, I can't keep living with all this. It's too much for me. I loved him so much."

"And he loved you," I pleaded, crawling out of the glass towards him, "and I know he wouldn't blame you for what happened."

"I made him Robin," Bruce whimpered, "I should have never…have done that. It was selfish. I just…wanted you back and I thought…I thought he could do what you did. I as good as handed him over to the Joker."

"Listen to me Bruce," I said, gripping his arms, "when you got Jason, he was angry and scared and damaged. That wasn't your fault. You tried to help him and you know what…you did. You loved him so much and gave him so much joy while he was with you. I saw that. So many people never get the chance to be loved the way you loved him. You gave him that gift, you have to hold onto that. I know you don't want to go on living but I need you…I need you so much and now, Tim needs you too. Please…please." I almost couldn't see now, the world was blurring behind my tears, but I felt when Bruce grabbed me, dragging me into his arms. He clung to me tightly, breathing like he was drowning with big, unstable gulps of air. He was choking on his sobs now and shaking.

"I miss him so much Dick," he whimpered through his tears, "I just wish I could hold him…just once more."

"I know," I agreed, weeping into his chest, "I miss him too." Moments dragged on into an eternity. I let the grief sweep me up and carry me away like a river. I let it surround me, force its way down into me so that I felt it throughout my body. I could tell by the way Bruce was holding me and the way he was shaking that he was doing that as well, finally allowing the pain to catch up with him. Neither of us said anything for a long time until he spoke in a small, tentative voice.

"I missed you." I came up out of his arms, facing him with tears still streaming down my cheeks and a small smile playing across my face.

"I missed you too." He took my face in his hands and kissed my forehead.

"I'm sorry," he said softly.

"So am I." I saw him looking over my shoulder and turned to see the remains of the case that had held Jason's costume, which was still on the floor. We both stared at it for a few moments, breathing slowly and trying to reclaim our breath.

"Tim helped me…you know," I said softly. I turned back to Bruce. "Telling him stories about Jason, remembering him…it helped a lot. We should…talk about him. We should stop pretending he didn't exist."

"We should," Bruce agreed softly. "What were you…what were you saying about Tim?"

"Shit," I swore, leaping to my feet, "listen, you have to help me, Tim's missing. No one's seen him in like a week. I contacted his school and they said they thought his dad had taken him on a business trip or something but I'm sure he would have told me if he knew he wouldn't be able to see me today." Bruce gave me an annoyed look, getting slowly to his feet.

"I told you, that boy is not our responsibility."

"I put my hands on my hips."

"That's bullshit and you know it. I care about this kid and I know you do too, even if you don't want to admit it. We have to at least verify that he's ok."

"I'm sure he just went with his Dad," Bruce grunted, wiping his face on his sleeve, "but if you insist, I'll call him and confirm."

"I do insist," I insisted, frowning at him. Bruce frowned back and then seized his cell phone, dialing quickly. The phone rang three times before someone answered.

"Helloooooooooo Jackie," Bruce drawled in his Bruciest Bruce Wayne voice, "how are things goooooooing? Well, that is just fabuloso! So, listen, I was bored the other day, poking around the manor, and I found a stash of Dick's old toys. I was wondering if Terry might like them." I gave Bruce an outraged look but he ignored me. "Is the boy home, could I drop them by this afternoon? Perfect, peeeeerfect, well, I will do that then! Looking forward to your report at the end of the week, chao!"

"You had better never give anyone my old toys," I said seriously after Bruce hung up but he ignored me, the slightest amount of concern evident on his face.

"He's not with his father."

"Shit," I swore, "well then, where is he? You told him to go away last week, did you tell him where to go to?" Bruce shook his head and paused for a moment.

"But…"

"What?"

"He was going on about having "solved his case", whatever that means."

"What case?" I asked, "You mean that thing he had in that binder when he first came to me?" Bruce nodded.

"He's been working on it ever since, having me help him with parts of it. When he and I…talked last week, he said he thought he had solved it."

"Do you think he might have done something about it after you ignored him?" Bruce shrugged awkwardly.

"I mean…he didn't seem like the type to take matters into his own hands." I frowned at him.

"Ok, well, if he had…where would he go?"

"I don't…I don't know," Bruce replied, "I wasn't really paying attention to what he was saying."

"You're telling me you spent all this time helping him and you still have no idea what he was investigating," I cried, aghast.

"Well…Yea," Bruce replied defensively, "I helped him with analysis but we never talked about results. I have no idea what he was up to!"

"Well," I said, "then I guess we better get suited up and go to his place." Bruce frowned at me.

"Why?"

"Because, I assume that's where all his evidence and shit is. We have to re-solve the case he just solved so that we can find him."

"Dick," Bruce murmured uncertainly, "I can't…I just…" I put a hand on his shoulder.

"I am not asking you to replace Jason," I said gently, "I know that that's not possible. I don't want to replace him either but this kid needs us. We have to find him." Bruce gave a heavy sigh.

"Alright," he agreed reluctantly, "I guess…I guess let's go."

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"Batman, you gotta see this," I cried, "look! He built a scale model of Wayne manor with toothpicks. Batman look, here's my room!" Batman glanced over my shoulder at the glory that was the painted and carefully measured Wayne manor hidden in Tim's closet. "He is…super obsessed with us, isn't he," I said, straightening up. We were in Tim's room, searching around, or at least, I was. Batman was reading through his notes at his desk, looking ridiculous trying to perch on Tim's tiny chair. I had never been inside the kid's room before and, although I had known he was pretty…into me in a kind of hero-worshiping sort of a way, the ramifications of that had somehow never dawned on me. He had made his whole life about Bruce, Jason and me. In fact, being in this room was probably making Batman pretty uncomfortable.

Since Jason's death, Bruce had systematically gone through and removed every trace of him from the walls of the manor, squirrelling them all away in the attic. In Tim's room, however, we were surrounded by images of the late Robin, both in and out of costume. In some ways, I found that comforting, especially since I knew Jason would have loved it. Having a weird little kid print out a bunch of pictures of him and put them all over his walls was a strange tribute but, in some ways, quite fitting. Jason had made a real impact in his fifteen years, more than some people make in a lifetime. My thoughts now, however, were more on Tim than Jason. "Did you find anything?" I asked, moving back over next to Batman.

"Getting there," the Dark Knight grumbled, "if you would like to help…" I gave him a moody look and took one of the binders, settling on Tim's bed. In this case, the boy's thoroughness might be his undoing. He had documented pretty much everything he had done in the course of his investigation, every lead he had ever pursued, even the ones that didn't pan out. I guess I should have been realistic. It was unlikely Tim would just have a piece of paper with the words, 'I went here, these are the bad guys,' just sitting on his desk waiting for us. "Tim was an…impressive detective," Batman said suddenly, breaking my train of thought. I nodded in agreement.

"He definitely was. He was getting pretty good at the self-defense stuff I was teaching him too. I mean, he was small so I don't know how effective he would have ended up being but still, he was tenacious. Probably could have gotten really good if I'd kept working with him." Batman looked up at me.

"You wanted him to be Robin." I pursed my lips and avoided his gaze, not saying anything. "I would have thought you, of all people, would understand why he couldn't be, why no one ever can be again."

"I do…" I insisted, "I mean…I thought I did but…Do you know why he came to me at the police station a few weeks ago?"

"It was about this case," Batman replied, indicating the binders in front of him.

"Yea, but not just that. He wanted me to go back and be your Robin again. He was worried about you. He thought, with Jason gone, you were taking too many risks, you were too…unbalanced. He wanted me to fix it. I said no because we still weren't exactly…getting along but I think he was right. I think you do need a Robin and…I'll admit, I was kinda grooming Tim for the job." Batman glared at me. "I know, I know, I was probably a little out of line but he just seemed like a really good fit, especially after Jason. He's more involved with the intellectual side of it. He's cautious, he's humble, not one to get in over his head, not a mean bone in his body, I mean he's the exact opposite of Jason and he…needs you."

Batman managed to hold his glare for another minute before his head dropped, his eyes going back into Tim's notes. "Anyway," I continued, "it was just a thought."

"I'm not going to get anyone else killed," Batman said softly, so softly, I almost didn't hear him.

"Who says you have to?" I replied. Silence lapsed between us for a few minutes as Batman and I continued digging through the files when suddenly, Tim's computer screen began to blur and flash. We both stared at it, confused and surprised, as the lights on it flickered twice and then consolidated into the image of a man. He was dressed in an orange and gray costume and mask that covered his entire face so that there were no easily discernable features that might give us a clue as to who he was. He stood silently in front of the camera for a moment and then started to speak.

"Hello Gotham, I am the Fault Ripper." His voice was measured and calm in a chilling sort of way and, when I felt my phone buzz and fished it out of my pocket, I could see the image of the same man there as well. Clearly, he had found a way to broadcast to all capable devices in Gotham, concerning, but not that surprising since Joker had just done that last week. Cyber security in Gotham was pretty shitty. "My demands are simple," the Fault Ripper continued, "I want the Batman. If he does not appear, alone, at the old Boran factory in one hour, I will destroy Gotham…starting with this boy." The camera panned behind him and there, tied and gagged and looking very frightened, was Tim Drake. "Remember Batman, one hour, come alone…" The image disappeared with a pop and Batman and I stared at each other.

"It has to be a trap," I said. Batman nodded.

"I know."

"What did Tim get himself into?" I asked, aghast.

"I think I know that too," Batman replied, indicating a page in one of the boy's binders. "He uncovered a plot to destroy Gotham using a massive earthquake." I stared at him in shock. Batman got up, collecting Tim's binders as he spoke. "There's a deposit of a rare metal under Gotham that would be impossible to mine without destroying the city. Namazu Inc., a mining company, has come up with a plan to destroy the city with an earthquake. Once everyone is either dead or has moved away, they'll be free to buy the land for next to nothing and mine it." I sat back on Tim's bed, my mind spinning.

"But…why an earthquake?"

"It makes perfect sense," Batman continued, shoving Tim's binders and laptop into a sack he found in the corner of the boy's room. "An earthquake serves to get everyone out of the city but also forces massive upheaval in the rock layers beneath Gotham that would bring deeply buried metals to the surface. Tim inadvertently uncovered the final piece of their plan, which is to blame the whole thing on this… 'Fault Ripper'. No one will think twice about it, there are a lot of insane, costumed villains in Gotham. One was bound to destroy the city eventually. No one would try to connect him to a company."

"But how can they do that, I mean, no one can cause an earthquake…can they?"

"Tim seems to think they can and, from the evidence he collected, I'm inclined to agree with him. They must have created some type of machine that can concentrate seismic energy. They tested it in Namibia. This was the result." He showed me a picture Tim had printed out and the destruction it showed chilled me to the bone. I sprang to my feet.

"So, what are we going to do?"

"I need you to take this to Gordan," Batman replied, shoving the sack he had just filled with all Tim's materials into my hands. "Have him begin to take precautions, any that he can think of, to protect people from what might be coming. It should also be enough for him to get a warrant for Namazu's headquarters. Go with him, see if there's anything you can find that might help us shut down this machine before they start it."

"What are you going to do?" I asked. Batman stared at me grimly.

"I'm going after Tim."


	18. Chapter 17

It felt like I had cried every tear I had in my body, though I was careful to make sure my captors never saw any of them fall. In some ways, I wasn't surprised I had failed. I had no skills, no experience, nothing that would have prepared me for what I had to do. I had tried though. When I had gotten home from Wayne manor, I had immediately looked up the blueprints for the building where Namazu Inc. had their headquarters. I tried searching to see if they had any other properties but if they did, they were owned by shell corporations and I didn't have time to dig around and figure out what they were. I just had to hope that the machine was where I thought it was. It didn't seem like a very good place to start an earthquake that would destroy Gotham, since it was far from the city center, but it was possible they planned to move it before they started it up. I hoped they hadn't done so yet.

I knew my plan was a tenuous one, relying on so much hope so I had almost expected to be captured, though in my mind, that wasn't supposed to happen until after I disabled the machine. I never even got the chance. I couldn't find it, though I didn't discover why until later. I searched every room in the building and was in the process of rechecking when they finally captured me. What did surprise me, however, was the fact that they didn't kill me, although they talked about it. Tied up and gagged in the basement of the building, I listened to two men and a woman frantically discussing what to do with me and what my presence meant.

"Who do you think he is?" the woman hissed. They had removed my mask but, since I made sure my picture rarely appeared on the internet and I gave them a fake name, they had no way of knowing who I really was, at least not without a lot of digging. I had hoped that would protect dad, although I didn't know for how long. "Do you think he's affiliated with the bat? He is wearing a Robin costume." One of the men snorted.

"That ridiculous thing isn't a costume. Besides, if the bat knew what we were up to, he wouldn't send the kid here by himself. You don't think that consultant Drake blabbed to someone, do you?"

"No way," the other man countered, "he was only at one meeting, he has no idea what he heard or why we fired him."

"He should never have been at that meeting in the first place," the woman hissed, "it was your stupid secretary that sent him to it. Who knows what documents he ended up with or if he shredded them like he was supposed to."

"You were the one that fired him," the man growled, "that looked more suspicious than just keeping him on and bribing him."

"It doesn't matter," the other man interrupted, "if he did talk, the police would be here, not some dumb kid. Anyway, who cares why he's here, what are we going to do with him?"

"We have to kill him," the first man insisted, "the plan is almost complete. Any interference at this stage could destroy us!"

"He's only a child," the woman cried, "we can't kill him."

"Don't be so sentimental," the first man growled, "thousands of children will die if we can get this quake to work. Let's just kill him and frame someone like we did with that internet reporter."

"No," the second man said slowly, "I have a better idea. We talked about needing a lure for the Batman, this boy could prove useful for that. We can accelerate our timeline a little, draw the bat in at the end of the week. We only need to keep him alive until then."

"But, what if someone comes looking for him," the woman countered.

"They have no reason to suspect what we've done. We can just move everything to the other location and shut this place down. They can search all they want, they won't find any evidence of him."

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Much of the rest of the week was a blur for me. They kept me blindfolded and in the dark the whole time, even when they moved me. I was horrified at the thought of being bait for the Batman but there was nothing I could do. I had a small glimmer of hope that maybe he wouldn't come for me, since he hated me now. I was scared to die, scared of what they'd do to me if he didn't come, but I knew I wouldn't be able to live with the guilt of being the one that caused him to die. Guilt was a constant companion over that week I was kept, guilt that I had failed to stop the machine, guilt that I hadn't been a good enough detective to convince Batman to look into what I had found and guilt that I hadn't convinced Nightwing to come back and be Robin. All this was my fault and now, I wouldn't even live long enough to try and make any of it right.

When the day finally arrived for the trap to be set, the only thing on my mind was that I had to find a way to warn the Batman. The video was filmed and broadcasted, me writhing against my bonds the entire time to try and figure out some way to alert him to what was going on, and when it ended and I was unsuccessful, silence dropped over the whole factory and I was left alone. Miserable and exhausted from lack of sleep, I slumped in the chair they had me tied to, lacking the energy even to struggle anymore. My head hung low and I fell into a kind of dream-state, almost awake but not quite. In and out of that I dipped, my heart aching, until I felt hands on my arms. I started awake, my eyes flaring open. I was shocked to see that the blindfold and gag had been removed and I was looking into the face of the Batman, who was focused on cutting my bonds.

"Batman," I yelped, stumbling over my words but he slapped his hand over my mouth.

"Quietly," he said gently, "hold on, I almost have you loose."

"Stop," I hissed, "please, you have to go, it's a trap."

"I know," Batman said, "listen, do you know where the earthquake machine is?"

"There is no machine!" I cried. He looked up at me, frowning.

"But…in your research…"

"It's you," I yelped, cutting him off, "it isn't a machine, it's a person, it's you!" Before I could say another word though, gas started filling the room. Batman stood up, alert, and quickly pressed a button on his gauntlet. A mask covered his mouth and nose in an instant.

"Go," I coughed, feeling tears of desolation well up in my eyes, "they've studied your costume…they know your mask can't…protect against this kind of…gas." The words had barely left my mouth before Batman collapsed unconscious beside me. I succumbed only a moment later, my eyes smarting from the gas and tears streaming down my cheeks. Unfortunately, it seemed Batman didn't hate me as much as I had thought.

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The machine was a person, that was why I couldn't find it before, why pieces of a machine had never been found at any of the companies where earthquakes had originated. Namazu had created a serum that gave a person the power to cause earthquakes. Originally, it had been intended as an aid to help with mining but preliminary tests proved that it was fatal to the test subject, the strain of it snapping every bone in their body, so the project was abandoned, at least until recently. The only problem was that the serum interacted with a specific sequence on a person's DNA and, if the sequence was not optimal, the earthquakes the person could generate were not as powerful. In Namibia, they had finally found what they were looking for. As it happened, they found that Batman's DNA had the exact sequence they were looking for. Since Batman literally bled all over Gotham, his DNA was not exactly challenging to come by. So, a plan was hatched, a plan that I had uncovered and then inadvertently become an integral part of. All of this I pieced together during my long week of captivity, listening to the conversations my captors had with one another.

As my eyes slowly blinked open, the first thing I saw was the Batman, strapped to a vertical table with an I.V. running into his jugular. He still had his costume on; I suppose they figured there wasn't any point trying to figure out how to get it off, soon enough he would be dead and it wouldn't matter. I couldn't tell if he was awake yet, but I suspected he was. He was probably thinking, trying to figure out how he could escape. I wasn't optimistic. The transfusion had already begun. There were three nurses surrounding him, taking vital signs and tending to the I.V.. Soon, the earthquake powers would overtake him and there wouldn't be anything he could do to stop them.

I was lying on my side, still bound to my chair, apparently forgotten. The room we were in was large and full of tables and chairs, some turned over on their sides and others half-destroyed. The table closest to me had probably been used for blackjack, at least I thought so. My eyes caught the sight of a busted neon sign with the word "burg" still legible. A flicker of recognition ran through me. We were at the top of the Cobblepot building in the old Ice-burg club. Years before I was born, it had been destroyed in a battle between Batman and the Penguin and the whole building had been condemned, though no one had ever gotten around to destroying it. It was very near the center of Gotham, the perfect place to start an earthquake.

Everyone had their back to me, rushing around and preparing for the seismic activity they were about to inflict on Gotham. There were probably ten people in the room total, counting the nurses tending Batman, the three people I had seen before who presumably planned the whole thing and four armed guards, standing around looking bored. I was just starting to give into my hopelessness and fear when, shifting my weight, I felt the ropes that bound my arms snap. I froze. Batman had been sawing at them when he had fallen unconscious and I guess no one had noticed just how close he had gotten to freeing me. My legs were still bound but, maybe…

All hope was not lost, not if I could do something. Batman may already be succumbing to the serum but I knew that there was an anti-serum and it had to be somewhere nearby. Apparently, in Singapore, where one of the tests had been completed, the company's plans had almost been found out when a team of officials had arrived for a surprise inspection of the facilities just after the I.V. had been started on the test subject. They had only barely managed to escape the facility before the earthquake destroyed it, but if they had not, the resulting investigation might have unearthed Namazu's plans. To keep that from happening again, an anti-serum had been developed to rid the person of the earthquake powers in the event of an emergency. If I could only find it and give it to Batman, we might still be able to keep the earthquake from happening! I had to be careful. If I was caught again, there would be no hope left.

I started to free my legs as quietly and subtly as I could, keeping my eyes fixed on my captors. When I had finally loosed the bonds, I slowly got up. I had to think, where would the anti-serum be? The three people who were clearly the masterminds of the plot were all standing near Batman, watching as the last of the I.V. finished running into his body. There was a helicopter atop the roof to take them to safety, but they preferred to stay and make sure everything was past the point of no return before they got on their way. That was smart, since from what I could tell, the villains always left too early when they did these kinds of Batman-killing plots. Today though, their carefulness would be to my advantage because I knew the anti-serum was probably on one of them.

They were standing towards the edge of the action, discussing their plans as far from the Batman as they could, their backs to me. I crept carefully behind them, my heart beating so hard, I was afraid they might be able to hear it. Dick had me practicing pit-pocketing techniques two weeks prior but I didn't think I was close to being a master. I slipped up carefully to the left-most man, who I now saw clearly for the first time. He was tall with red hair, pale skin and a smattering of freckles across his face. I slid my hand as carefully as I could into his first pants pocket, hardly daring to breathe. He didn't notice, but the anti-serum wasn't there. I bit my lip in frustration and tried his other pocket. Nothing.

Batman was starting to writhe on the table, panting heavily. The I.V. had just finished. A nurse wheeled it out of the way while another started undoing the straps that held him up. When she had released him, he dropped to the floor, trembling violently. "Is it done?" the red-haired man called from the sidelines, "is it working?"

"I think so," the third nurse called, stepping close to Batman to press his fingers to the Dark Knight's jugular. "His heartrate is beginning to accelerate." While they watched, I went on to the next man. He was about a head shorter with dark skin and hard, dark eyes. I tried both his pants pockets but found nothing. A shudder went through Batman and, a moment later, the building around us began to shake. The tremor was small, causing the instruments to rattle but nothing more than that. I knew it was only a premonition of what was to come. The dark-haired man looked down at a device in his hand. "We'll stay until the tremors reach a stage two. That should be enough to make sure his body will perform adequately. Should be only a few more minutes."

The woman was last. She was somewhere in between the heights of the two men with dark hair and pale skin, Asian by the look of it though I didn't spend very long pondering her appearance. I slipped my hand into her first pocket. Nothing. She shifted her weight, turning her body slightly and I moved on silent feet to one side to stay out of her field of view, crouching low. All I had been able to check was pants pockets. There was no way I would get the chance to check shirt pockets or briefcases, both of which they had. What was I going to do if they had the serum somewhere else? I couldn't think about that now though, I had one more pocket to check.

Another tremor went through the building, this one much stronger than the first. The I.V. pole toppled and one of the nurses had to grip the table Batman had been strapped to so that she didn't fall. The dark-haired man looked down at the device in his hand again and nodded to his companions. "Harvey, tell the pilot to begin takeoff preparations," the red-haired man called. One of the nurses started out a small door across the room from us. It was now or never for me. I slid my hand into the woman's pocket and my fingertips brushed something, a small glass vial by the feel of it. My hand closed around it and I was just starting to withdraw when I felt a vice-like grip on my wrist. The woman had grabbed me, eyes blazing. "What are you doing?" she cried, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. Just then, another tremor tore through the building, almost knocking us all off our feet. I took the opportunity to wrench myself from the woman's grasp.

"Get him," the red-haired man called as the tremor subsided, "shoot him!" The guards turned their guns on me and opened fire. I rolled out of the way, narrowly avoiding getting shot, and scrambled behind a nearby craps table. The building shook violently, sending almost everyone to their knees. I had to get to Batman, that was the only way to stop this, although I had no idea if I was too late. The red-haired man was screaming for someone to grab me. One of the nurses seized my ankle as I was darting out of reach, but I managed to wiggle loose. I made a mad dash towards the Batman, but bullets peppered the wall behind me and I had to dive for cover. There was no way I was going to reach him.

I hunkered down for a moment as another tremor shook the building, for the first time looking down at the vial that I had. I realized then that it wasn't a vial at all. Instead, it was an injection system like the one used to give people epinephrine. It would be so easy just to jam this into Batman's neck if I could only get close enough. I was so close already! I sure hoped it was the anti-serum but I didn't have time to verify or look for anything else.

Another nurse darted up to me just as the building shuddered again. It was like the world was moving in slow motion. The Batman was still so far away, about the distance of a…flip. Probably a triple. Well…I had been practicing, time to see if I was made of the stuff Dick seemed to think I was. I backed up from the nurse, feigning fear and then charged her. Before she could react, I leapt as high as I could and grabbed her shoulders, using them for leverage to launch myself into the air above them. I spun high, narrowly avoiding a spray of bullets, and twisted my body into one, two, three forward flips and a twist at the end. I twisted nearly enough to get my feet underneath me but not quite. I landed awkwardly on just one and hit the ground hard on my side. It didn't matter though, I was right next to the Batman now.

He looked over at me, his chest heaving like he was trying to outrun the Flash and I jammed the anti-serum straight into his neck. The Asian woman howled in frustration. "He gave him the serum," she shrieked, "we have to go to the helicopter now!" Batman slumped to his side, still panting, and the building rocked violently. Was I too late?

"Tim," he croaked softly. I shimmied up to him as the rest of the people started to flee, my side smarting from the hard fall. "Tim," he grunted again, "Tim, I'm…I'm sorry." I bit my lip, feeling tears well up in my eyes.

"It's ok," I said, I'm sorry…I thought I could save you but I couldn't I…" A tremor cut me off but this one was…smaller. I felt hope spring up in my chest. Batman's breathing started to slow. Another tremor came but this one was even weaker than the one before. They were subsiding. Everything was going to be…ok! It was then that the door through which everyone had escaped burst open and police officers came streaming in, Nightwing at their head.

"Batman," he called frantically, rushing up to the Dark Knight and I and dropping to his knees in front of us. The commissioner was beside us in another moment.

"Are you alright young man?" he asked me.

I nodded and, using my best little kid voice said, "Those guys…they kidnapped me! But the Batman saved me!" Nightwing gave me an amused and appreciative look as he slowly helped Batman up.

"Did you capture the people responsible?" Batman asked, his voice weak and wavering but still full of authority. Gordon nodded.

"We caught them just in time, they were about to escape in a helicopter. I must say though Batman, this is one of the more outlandish plans I've ever seen. I almost wouldn't believe it if I hadn't felt the tremors for myself. Seems we got off awfully lucky." Batman nodded silently and allowed Nightwing to help him slowly towards the door, still speaking with the commissioner as the police combed the scene, collecting evidence. I stayed where I was for a few moments, breathing deeply.

I had done it, I had actually done it. It was all over, Gotham was safe! I almost couldn't believe what had happened. Of course, things hadn't gone like I had hoped they would. I still felt terribly guilty that I wasn't able to convince Batman to heed my evidence but he wasn't dead and right now, to me, that was all that mattered. Shakely, I got to my feet, my whole left side on fire from my hard landing on the concrete floor. For a moment, I considered going after Batman and Nightwing but they were busy and anyway, they hardly needed me anymore. I had studied the battle between Batman and the Penguin that had happened in this building so I knew there was a back exit. Quietly, I headed towards it and, in the chaos, slipped away.


	19. Chapter 18

_Bruce and I talked for a long time after that…a really long time. We fought, we cried, we laughed and went back and forth between hating each other and clinging to one another for comfort. It was clear I could not go back to being his partner, at least, not in the way I had been before. Equally clear, however, was the fact that he needed one. We talked about that probably the longest. I could understand the way he felt, not wanting to put another child in danger. With me, he had been young, naïve and a bit stupid, shoving an eight-year-old into a costume and expecting him to fight people three times his size. With Jason, he was a little smarter but still, the experiment he had started with me came to an end people had been predicting since I had first stepped out of the shadows in red, green and yellow. It hardly seemed logical to ignore those results. That was what he said, at least. I had a bit of a different perspective, something a little more utilitarian. _

_Sure, Bruce had made Jason and I Robin because he had thought we needed it, but I argued that, perhaps for the experiment to work this third time, it had to be the other way around. The world needed Batman, Gotham needed Batman. He saved hundreds, maybe thousands of lives but to continue to do that, Batman needed Robin. Without a partner, Batman could not do his job. All of that, I argued, was justification for asking one person to make the sacrifice, to be Robin, for the good of the city and everyone in it. If Bruce could accept that, it was just a matter of finding the right person. Luckily, I was pretty sure we already had…_

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After I got back from my ordeal, I slept for a long time. I got up once or twice to stumble down to the kitchen and get something to eat and then it was back to bed. Dad had heard about the kidnapping on the news and flown back to Gotham to see me, which was actually really nice. The way I spun the story, to my dad, the police who later asked me questions and everyone at school, I had been snatched by the people from Namazu Inc. while I was out skateboarding and held for a couple hours as bait for the Batman. Since this was Gotham and kidnappings by supervillains were not uncommon, I achieved minor celebrity status in school for a little while but other than that, no one felt the need to think too much about my story. Dad admitted to working for Namazu Inc. for a while, though he had been totally unaware of what they were doing, and postulated that I had been chosen in retaliation for him maybe knowing too much. That actually added some credibility to my story and in the end, no one suspected I had helped Batman, which was exactly what I wanted.

I folded up my make-shift Robin costume, stowed it in the back of my closet and started trying to move on with my life. I knew I should have been happier about the end of the case and, for a while, I was. Dad paid me a lot of extra attention over the next two weeks, even taking me for the ice cream we had missed out on before and I got to know Dana, his new girlfriend, who was actually really nice. My grades picked back up now that I wasn't sleeping through class and I started trying to spend more time skateboarding and less time in front of my computer. But, in truth, I missed it.

I missed the challenge of solving cases and the wonder of working in the Batcave, of helping Alfred clean and sparing with Dick. I missed all the attention they had given me and the fun we'd had. In some ways, I had the odd sense that the most exciting days of my life were already behind me and I was only eleven! How could anything ever compare to helping the Batman stop a plot to destroy Gotham!? I still had the nagging sense that I had been right at the very beginning, that Batman needed a Robin and, even though this latest crisis had been averted, he still needed one. Finally, I decided I would go back to the Batcave one last time. I wasn't sure if Batman wanted my help but I had something prepared and I owed it, at least to myself, to finish what I had started.

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Since he had kicked me out of the cave and I wasn't sure how he felt about me anymore, I called ahead. I debated for a long time how to get in contact with him, if I should try and figure out what his home number was or maybe Alfred's number or if I should try and contact Dick and get Bruce's number from him. In the end, I decided the easiest thing to do would be to call him from my Dad's cellphone. I waited until Dad went to bed, which ended up being nearly three a.m., but I knew _he_ would still be awake. I was actually hoping he would be out on patrol and Alfred would pick up but the voice that answered on the third ring was not a prim, British drawl.

"Jackieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee, you arrrrre up late, you naughty boy! Listen, I sure hope this is important because I'm kind of in the middle of something…or should I say, someone! Hah hah hah." I blushed.

"Ohh, um, I'm sorry, it's Tim Drake. I just had a question but I'll call back later." I was about to hang up when Bruce stopped me, his voice dropping about four octaves when he did.

"No, it's ok Tim, I'm not doing anything, that is just how I answer the phone when I…sorry." We were both silent for a few moments. "So," he continued awkwardly, "how have you been? Are you…ok?"

"Yea," I said, "I'm fine."

"We hadn't heard from you since…what happened. I would have reached out but I didn't know if you… I mean, I assumed you would be spending time with your father, since he's back in town."

"I have been," I affirmed, "and that's been good, everything is um…everything is good."

"That's…that's good," Bruce said awkwardly. "So, what can I do for you?"

"Well, I…I had something that I wanted to give you…well, talk to you about I guess…it's kind of a presentation sort of a thing and I just wondered if it would be alright if I came by and…showed it to you sometime…"

"Sure," Bruce agreed quickly, "I mean…I've actually been meaning to reach out. There was something I wanted to discuss with you as well and Dick's been wanting to hear how you are. Do you want to come by tomorrow?" I froze. That was so soon and I was so nervous! Well, best to just get it over with.

"Sure," I said, "I'll come after school tomorrow, if that's ok."

"That sounds perfect," Bruce affirmed, sounding almost as nervous as I felt, "if you want, Alfred can pick you up."

"No," I countered, "I'll just ride my bike. I have math club tomorrow so I don't know exactly when I'll be done. Is that ok?"

"Yes, yes, come any time, I'll be around."

"Ok," I agreed. "I guess…I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yes," Bruce said briskly, "and again, sorry about the way I answered the phone…it was just…goodbye." He hung up. I replaced my dad's phone and went back to my room, slipping into bed. I was so filled with trepidation, I barely slept.

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I arrived at Wayne manor at about four. I had decided in the end to skip math club. I just couldn't focus with my last trip to Wayne manor hanging over my head. I had no sooner stowed my bike in its usual place and rung the front doorbell than I was swept up into the arms of Alfred. "Ohh, I am so very happy you are alright, dear boy," Alfred cried, "when I heard that you had been kidnapped, I was terribly worried." I wiggled in his grasp, trying to get away before he strangled me.

"I'm ok Alfred," I insisted, "I'm fine!" He held me at arms-length, looking me over critically.

"I will never forgive Master Bruce for the danger you were in," he said gravely.

"Aww, Alfred," I protested, embarrassed, "it wasn't his fault. I was the one that got myself caught."

"Nonetheless," Alfred countered in a stately voice, drawing himself up to full height, "you are a child, you can't be expected to know how to deal with such things. Now, you are here to see the master, yes?" I nodded, feeling suddenly shy. "Well, he is in the cave, I suggest you head there now."

"Ok," I agreed, "but listen…just in case I don't see you again…I wanted to thank you for everything."

"And why, pray tell, would we not see each other again," Alfred asked critically.

"Well, just…you know, since I won't be coming by here anymore." Alfred gave a hmph.

"Well, if it comes to that, we shall say goodbye then but I suggest you speak to the master before deciding who you will and will not be seeing in the future." Confused, I nodded and started down the stairs into the cave. I made it to the bottom step before I was assaulted again.

"Timmy, ohh, little Timmy you had me worried sick," Dick whimpered, scooping me up and swinging me around. I giggled, protesting the whole time but loving it anyway.

"Put me down!" I insisted, "you're gonna make me sick!" Dick held me at arms-length, grinned at me and then pulled me close, wrapping his arms around me tightly. "Ok, ok," I laughed, trying to shove him away.

"Put him down Dick," a voice nearby said. I gulped. There was Bruce. He didn't look angry this time at least, but when Dick set me on the ground, I stayed close to him. "I'm not going to…yell at you again, if that's what you're worried about," Bruce said awkwardly.

"I wouldn't let him get to ya anyway," Dick countered playfully, pressing me to his leg. I smiled up at him and swallowed hard.

"I'm ok," I said, "listen I wanted to…show you something." I looked from him to Dick. "Both of you actually, if that's ok."

"For sure," Dick affirmed, "Bruce said you had a presentation. Want us to like…sit down or something?"

"That would be good…if you don't mind," I said tentatively, wrapping my arms around my binder, "it's an um…I mean…I made a powerpoint."

"Bruce, he made a powerpoint," Dick hissed, "Bruce that's so cute." Bruce frowned at Dick and took two chairs, setting them up so that they faced the screen of the bat-computer. I gulped awkwardly again and loaded my presentation onto the computer, gazing pointedly down at my notes in my binder while I spoke. I knew if I made eye contact with either one of them, I might lose my nerve.

"Ok," I began, "now I know you may not like this but I really believe that you need a Robin and this time, I'm not just gonna let you ignore me." I glanced up at Bruce and Dick, trying to look determined and brave, and then quickly returned my eyes to my notes. I was regretting turning this into a presentation. I hated public speaking. "Anyway, I know you may not want my help or anything but, over the course of the last couple weeks, I've been assembling a list of possible candidates to be Robin."

And, for the next thirty minutes, I briefed the two of them on the ten people I thought might make a good Robin. The entire time, Bruce didn't betray a single emotion. He paid rapt attention though, his face fixed in a look of mild interest. Dick, on the other hand, just giggled. He tried to stifle it but it was obvious I was the butt of some joke I didn't understand. That both irritated and worried me but I plowed through, carefully presenting the reasons why I thought each individual might have the right stuff to help Batman in his crusade and when I was done, Dick clapped.

"I know this is only a couple people and you'll probably want to do more extensive background checks and stuff but, if you don't like any of them, I could probably find you some more candidates. I want to do this, I want to help you because I…care about you and what happens to you and what happens to…Gotham." I looked up again now, meeting their gazes and for a minute, we were all quiet. Then, Dick burst out laughing again.

"Ohh please Bruce, please can I tell him," he pleaded. Bruce gave him a deep scowl.

"I told you that you could be here on the condition that you were quiet!" Dick gave him a sassy look and Bruce got up, walking up to me and crouching in front of me.

"Tell me what?" I asked, looking from Dick to him.

"That…" Bruce said slowly, "I actually already have someone I'm considering to be Robin, although if he says no, you might be on to something with these other candidates." I stared at him in surprise.

"Then…you agree with me…"

"I do. You were right, I do need a Robin. Dick and I have been talking about it a lot, in fact. That's…actually why I wanted to have you over." He surprised me by taking both of my hands and holding them tightly, looking right into my eyes. I was trapped in his blue-gray stare, feeling suddenly like I couldn't move. "Tim, over the last few weeks, you have proven yourself to be remarkably resourceful, tenacious and brave. You were able to see a pattern where no one else could and you followed through even when everyone around you was telling you that you were wrong. And, when it came time to act and you knew you had no one else to depend on, you did what you had to do to save the day, even though you had minimal training and equipment. You are an incredibly brilliant young man and are already an astounding detective. I think, with a little more training, you could do great things. With that in mind, I was actually hoping that…you might consider being Robin."

"M…me," I stuttered, backing away from him a little. My mind was spinning and I almost collapsed. Of course, I had dreamed about being Robin, I don't think there is a single kid in Gotham who hasn't and there was a time when I would have given anything to don that costume and go swinging off into the night with the Batman but I never really considered I had what it took. Could Batman really be asking me to be Robin?

"Now, I know that this is no small decision and it shouldn't be one you make lightly," he continued, "being Robin is very dangerous and you should never forget that the last boy to wear the costume, that…Jason…died. It also requires a great deal of time and energy and it will hurt. Your nights will be long and often brutal. You are going to have to lie to the majority of the people in your life and regular relationships will be difficult to upkeep. I am not always…the easiest person to work with either but you'll have to listen to me and do what I say and you'll always be…" But, whatever else he was going to say was lost when I careened into his arms. He knelt for a moment in shock as I hugged him tightly. "Is…is that a yes?"

"Of course!" I exclaimed, "Of course it's a yes, of course I want to be Robin, it's all I've ever wanted for like…forever! Do you really think I can do it?" He took my chin in his hand and locked his gaze with mine.

"I would not have asked if I didn't."

"Yea," Dick whooped, rushing over to us excitedly. He scooped me up, saying, "You know, this was basically all my idea, I thought you'd make a great Robin since the day you helped me solve my case! I just had to help Bruce see it. It's a really good thing you agreed to it though because Tim, come on, those other people you picked out, terrible!"

"Hey," I countered angrily, "they were not! I spent a long time coming up with that list. They are excellent candidates!" Dick gave me a sassy look and pointed at the computer screen, which still displayed an image of the last contender.

"That guy is a forty-year-old contortionist from the carnival."

"I mean…he's not the youngest but he can really…contort."

"How is that a qualification for being Robin?" Dick asked.

"It could come in handy, besides, he's an orphan, I know Batman likes orphans."

"He's forty," Dick cried, "I think at that point, it doesn't really matter!"

"Alright," Bruce said gently, "enough of that Dick. You'll have plenty of time to drive him nuts later. For now, I think it's time to start training, that is, if you're ready Tim."

"I am," I insisted, eyes bright with excitement, "I was born ready."


	20. Epilogue

"And then, Bruce proceeded to be just terrible for like…years."

"Aww, Tim, he wasn't that bad," Batman said. Red Robin gave him a wry look.

"I mean, he wasn't the greatest. He was moody and brooding and generally a gigantic pain in the ass. Granted, that was interspaced with moments of him being nice but it was a lot of me dealing with all his traumatic crap over you Jason. I don't know that I would have taken the job if I'd known that was gonna happen."

"But he loved you," Batman insisted, "and that was good." Red Robin paused, his eyes unfocused and his mind traveling far away.

"Yea," he said in a soft, almost dreamy voice, "he did love me…eventually and that…that was good." His memories found a storm then, a storm and warm arms and a soft voice and gentle hands and Red Robin wished for a single, overpowering moment to drown in those memories, but he shook his head, clearing his thoughts. "Anyway, then my dad found out who I was and he made me stop for a while and then he got killed and Bruce adopted me and then Bruce died and now…here we are." He did a brief jazz hands for emphasis and the Red Hood gazed at him and Batman stoically for a few moments.

"That was a really long and…kinda boring story, especially your parts Tim. If you were to retell that to someone, my main piece of feedback would be to cut all the technical bits. All that stuff about how you used the computer and shit…super dull."

"Thanks, but I don't take feedback from assholes who wear masks under their hoods."

"Hey Tim," Batman murmured, "you want to maybe…ease up on the bad language?" Red Robin glared at him and then turned back to Red Hood.

"So…am I walking off this roof or what?" The Red Hood considered the both of them and then shrugged.

"I mean…if you want to, go for it but I guess…maybe your sad and sorry tale sucked a bit of the fun out of it for me."

"Eee," Batman yipped, grabbing Red Robin's arm, "we did it Tim, we thawed his frozen heart Tim, just like the Winter Warlock from Santa Claus is Coming to Town, Tim!"

"I swear to God Dick, if you say my name or mention that fucking movie again, I will take Red Hood's gun and shoot you dead." The Red Hood snorted.

"I mean, honestly, watching you have to deal with him is better than watching you die anyway."

"Tell me about it," Red Robin grumbled, standing up. The three of them faced one another, the wind blowing Batman's cape behind him in the breeze and ruffling the hair of the other two.

"So…" Red Robin said slowly, "What happens now?"

"Now…now I clear out of Gotham for a while," the Red Hood replied, "I have a tropical island calling my name. Try not to die while I'm gone, I'd hate to miss that." He took a final long drag from his cigarette and tossed it to the ground, putting it out under his boot.

"You really shouldn't smoke Jason," Batman chided, "those things'll kill you one day."

"I've already been dead once," the Red Hood laughed, giving him a mischievous grin, "somehow, facing it the second time isn't nearly as scary. See you around bat boys."

"Will…will we see you again soon?" Batman called hopefully. Red Robin felt a flare of irritation. He had no desire to see the Red Hood again but of course, Batman was sentimental and ever full of hope. It was something Red Robin had once liked about him and, perhaps in a small way, still did.

"Maybe," Red Hood tossed over his shoulder, shooting a cable out into empty space. It attached itself to a nearby building and he gave it a tug to secure it. "Can't promise I won't try to kill you though."

"You aren't trying to kill us now," Batman said, his voice so full of longing and desperate optimism, it made even the Red Hood pause for a moment.

"Well…one foot in front of the other Dickie bird." With that, he leapt off into the skyline of Gotham, grasping tightly to his line. Batman and Red Robin watched him for a long time, each lost in their own private thoughts, until they couldn't see him anymore.

"Glad we didn't bring Damian tonight," Red Robin said, finally breaking the silence as he positioned his shoulder under Batman so he could act like a crutch for the other man. Together, they started on their way back to the Batmobile. Batman frowned at Red Robin.

"We would have if you hadn't used knockout gas on him!"

"Well," Red Robin smirked, "like I said, good thing I did."

"You need to learn to get along with him," Batman grumbled.

"My predecessor doesn't get along with me," Red Robin replied.

"Well, after tonight, maybe he will…" Red Robin did not think so but Batman had not sounded this happy in a long time, maybe not since Bruce had died. Telling his story had been…harder than he had imagined, remembering Bruce, remembering those early days. Those had been good days and he had to remind himself that it was good to remember them. Besides, Bruce was not really gone, of that, he was convinced. He would be back soon and then they could reminisce together. Until then, he would do his best to support the current Batman however he could, even when he really wanted to smack him, like right now, when he was singing softly under his breath as they limped slowly back to the car. "Put one foot in front of the other and soon you'll be walking out the door."

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